A  BROTHER  TO  DRAGONS 


AND 


OTHER  OLD-TIME  TALES 


BY  AMELIE   RIVES 


YORK 

HARPER    &    BROTHERS,   FRANKLIN    SQUARE 
1888 


Copyright,  1888,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS. 


All  right*  rtterved. 


WITH  GRATEFUL  REMEMBRANCE 
TO 

THOMAS   BAILEY  ALDRICH 

MY  FIRST  EDITOR 


PREFACE. 


OF  the  tales  published  in  this  volume, 
"  A  Brother  to  Dragons  "  appeared  in  the 
Atlantic  Monthly  for  March,  1886;  "The 
Farrier  Lass  o'  Piping  Pebworth  "  in  Lippin- 
cotfs  Magazine  for  July,  1887  ;  and  "  Nurse 
Crumpet  tells  the  Story  "  in  Harpers  Mag 
azine  for  September,  1887. 

AMELIE  RIVES. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

A  BROTHER  TO  DRAGONS    i 

THE     FARRIER     LASS     O'    PIPING     PEB- 
WORTH 82 

NURSE   CRUMPET  TELLS   THE   STORY  .     .  168 


A  BROTHER  TO  DRAGONS. 


i. 

IN  the  year  of  grace,  1586,  on  the  last 
day  of  the  month  of  May,  to  all  who  may 
chance  to  read  this  narrative,  these  : 

I  will  first  be  at  the  pains  of  stating 
that  had  it  not  been  for  Marian  I  had 
never  indited  these  or  any  other  papers, 
true  or  false.  Secondly,  that  the  facts  here 
in  set  down  be  true  facts;  none  the  less 
true  that  they  are  strange.  I  will  further 
more  explain  that  Marian  is  the  Christian 
name  of  my  lawful  wife,  and  that  our  sur 
name  is  Butter. 

My  wife  had  nursed  the  Lady  Margaret 
from  the  moment  of  her  birth;  and  here  I 
must  make  another  digression.  The  Lady 


2  A  Brother  to  Dragons. 

Margaret  was  the  twin  sister  of  the  then 
Lord  of  Amhurste,  Lord  Robert,  and  my 
lady  and  his  lordship  had  quarrelled — Ma 
rian  saith,  with  a  great  cause,  but  I  cannot 
herein  forbear  also  expressing  my  opinion, 
which  is  to  the  effect  that  for  that  quarrel 
there  was  neither  cause,  justice,  nor  rea 
son.  Therefore,  before  those  who  may 
chance  to  read  these  words,  I  will  lay  bare 
the  facts  pertaining  to  the  said  quarrel. 

It  concerned  the  family  ghost,  which 
ghost  was  said  to  haunt  a  certain  blue 
chamber  in  the  east  wing  of  the  castle. 
Now  I  myself  had  never  gainsaid  these 
reports ;  for  although  I  do  not  believe  in 
ghosts,  I  have  a  certain  respect  for  them,  as 
they  have  never  offered  me  any  affront,  ei 
ther  by  appearing  to  me  or  otherwise  mal 
treating  me.  But  Marian,  who  like  many 
of  her  sex  seemed  to  consort  naturally  with 
banshees,  bogies,  apparitions,  and  the  like, 
declared  to  me  that  at  several  different  and 
equally  inconvenient  times  this  ghost  had 


A  Brother  to  Dragons.  3 

presented  itself  to  her,  startling  her  on  two 
occasions  to  such  an  extent  that  she  once 
let  fall  the  contents  of  the  broth -bowl  on 
Herne  the  blood-hound,  thereby  causing  that 
beast  to  maliciously  devour  two  breadths  of 
her  new  black  taffeta  Sunday  gown;  again, 
a  hot  iron  wherewith  she  was  pressing  out 
the  seams  of  Lady  Margaret's  night-gown. 
On  the  second  occasion,  she  fled  along  the 
kitchen  hall,  shrieking  piteously,  and  pre 
ceded  by  Doll,  the  kitchen  wench,  the  latter 
having  in  her  seeming  a  certain  ghostly  ap 
pearance,  as  she  was  clad  only  in  her  shift, 
which  the  draughts  in  the  hall  inflated  to  a 
great  size.  The  poor  maid  fled  affrighted 
into  her  room  and  locked  the  door  behind 
her ;  yet  when  I  did  essay  to  .assuage  the 
terror  of  Mistress  Butter,  identifying  Doll 
and  the  blue-room  ghost  as  one  and  the 
same,  she  thanked  me  not,  but  belabored 
me  in  her  frenzy  with  the  yet  warm  iron, 
which  she  had  instinctively  snatched  up  in 
her  flight;  demanding  of  me  at  the  same 


4  A  Brother  to  Dragons. 

time  if  I  had  ever  seen  Doll's  nose  spout 
fire,  and  her  eyes  spit  in  her  head  like  hot 
coals.  I  being  of  a  necessity  compelled  to 
reply  "  No,"  Marian  further  told  me  that  it 
was  thus  that  the  ghost  had  comported  it 
self;  that,  moreover,  it  was  clad  all  in  a  livid 
blue  flame  from  top  to  toe,  and  that  it  had 
a  banner  o'  red  sarcenet  that  streamed  out 
behind  like  forked  lightning.  She  then 
said  that  this  malevolent  spirit  had  struck 
her  with  its  blazing  hand,  and  that,  did  I 
not  believe  her,  I  could  see  the  burn  on 
her  wrist.  Upon  my  suggesting  that  this 
wound  might  have  been  inflicted  by  the 
iron  in  its  fall,  she  did  use  me  in  so  un- 
wifely  a  manner  that  I  sought  my  bed  in 
much  wrath  and  vexation  of  spirit.  Nay, 
I  do  fear  me  that  I  cursed  the  day  I  was 
wed,  the  day  on  which  my  wife  was  born, 
wishing  all  women  to  the  d — 1 ;  and  that, 
moreover,  out  loud,  which  put  me  to  much 
shame  afterwards  for  some  days ;  although, 
be  it  said  to  my  still  greater  shame,  it  was 


A  Brother  to  Dragons.  5 

full  a  fortnight  e'er  I  confessed  my  re 
pentance  unto  the  wife  whom  I  had  so 
abused. 

But  meseems  I  have  in  this  digression 
transgressed  in  the  matter  o'  length ;  there 
fore,  to  return  to  the  bare  facts. 

It  was  on  the  subject  of  this  ghost  that 
my  lord  and  the  Lady  Margaret  had  dis 
agreed.  My  lord,  being  a  flighty  lad,  al 
though  a  marvellous  fine  scholar  and  well- 
disposed,  did  agree  with  my  wife  in  the 
matter  of  the  ghost ;  while  my  lady  was  of 
a  like  mind  with  myself. 

It  doth  seem  but  yesterday  that  she  came 
to  me  as  I  was  training  the  woodbine  o'er 
the  arbor  that  led  to  her  little  garden,  and 
put  her  white  hand  on  my  shoulder.  (My 
lady  was  never  one  for  wearing  gloves,  yet 
the  sun  seemed  no  more  to  think  o'  scorch 
ing  her  fair  hands  than  the  leaves  of  a  day- 
lily.)  She  comes  to  me  and  lays  her  hand 
on  my  shoulder,  and  her  long  eyes  they 
laugh  at  me  out  of  the  shadow  of  her  hat; 


6  A  Brother  to  Dragons. 

but  her  mouth  is  grave  as  though  I  were  a 
corse. 

Quoth  she : 

"  Butter,  dost  thou  believe  in  this  ghost  ?" 

"  Nay,  my  lady,"  answered  I,  hoping  to 
shift  her  to  better  soil ;  "  I  ne'er  meddle 
with  ghosts  or  goblins.  Why,  an  there  be 
such  things,  should  they  wish  me  harm  ? 
O'  my  word,  my  brain  is  no  more  troubled 
with  ghosts,  black  or  white,  than  our  gra 
cious  Queen's  " — here  I  doffed  my  cap — 
"  is  with  snails  and  slugs ;"  and  here  I 
plucked  a  slug  from  a  vine -leaf  and  set 
my  heel  on't. 

"  Nay,  nay !"  quoth  she,  a-shutting  of  her 
white  eyelids  so  tight  that  all  the  long  black 
hairs  on  them  stood  straight  out,  like  the 
fringe  on  Marian's  Sunday  mantle  in  a 
high  wind.  "  Butter !  thou  nasty  man  !" 

"Why — for  how  dost  thou  mean,  my 
lady?"  quoth  I. 

"  Why,  for  mashing  that  poor  beast  to 
a  pap."  And  then  a-holding  of  her  hand 


A  Brother  to  Dragons.  7 

level  below  her  eyes,  so  that  she  might 
not  discern  the  ground,  "  Is  he  dead  ?" 
quoth  she. 

"  Dead  ?"  asked  I,  for  I  was  somewhat 
puzzled  in  my  mind. 

"Ay,  the  slug;  is  he  dead  ?" 

"  That  he  is,  verily,"  said  I ;  for  in  truth 
he  was  naught  but  a  jelly,  and  therewith  I 
drew  a  pebble  over  him  with  my  foot,  that 
the  sight  o'  his  misfortune  should  not  dis 
turb  her  tender  heart. 

"  How  if  I  were  to  crush  you  'neath  my 
heel,  Master  Butter  ?"  quoth  she  at  last,  hav 
ing  peered  about  for  the  sight  she  dread 
ed,  and,  not  seeing  it,  returning  to  her  dis 
course.  "  How  wouldst  thou  like  that,  ex 
cellent  Master  Butter  ?"  But  somehow,  as 
I  looked  at  her  foot,  my  mouth,  for  all  I 
could  do,  wrent  into  a  smile.  For  though 
she  was  as  fine  a  maiden  as  any  in  all 
Warwickshire,  her  foot,  methinks,  was  of 
so  dainty  a  make  'twould  scarce  have  dealt 
death  to  a  rose. 


8  A  Brother  to  Dragons. 

"  But  truly,  my  lady,"  continued  I,  see 
ing  that  she  was  making  up  a  face  at  me, 
"  thou  knowest  I've  naught  in  common  with 
ghosts." 

"  Ay,"  quoth  she.  "  And  thou  knowest 
the  like  of  me.  But " — and  here  stops  she, 
with  the  slyest  tip  of  her  frowzed  curls  tow 
ards  the  house — "thou  knowest  also  this, 
Butter,  that  his  lordship,  my  brother,  thinks 
as  doth  Marian,  thy  wife,  and  that  therein 
we  four  cannot  agree." 

So  I  look  at  my  hoe-handle,  and  say  I, 
"  My  lady,  it  is  known  to  me." 

"  Well,  now,  Butter,"  she  goes  on,  "  thou 
most  wise,  most  excellent,  most  cunning, 
most  delectable  of  Butters,  I  have  con 
cocted  a  plan.  F  fecks,  Butter"  (for  my 
lady,  like  her  Majesty  the  Queen,  was  some 
what  given  to  swearing,  though  more  mod 
est  oaths,  as  should  become  a  subject) — 
"  I'  fecks,  Butter,"  saith  she,  "  't  is  a  most 
lustick  plot.  But  I  would  not  thy  mome 
heard  us;"  and  with  that  she  makes  me 


A  Brother  to  Dragons.  9 

send  away  Joe,  the  under- gardener.  He 
being  gone,  she  whispers  in  my  ear  how 
she  hath  plotted  to  fright  his  lordship  and 
Marian  into  very  convulsions  of  further 
conviction,  by  appearing  to  them  at  the 
door  o'  the  blue  room  in  her  night-gown, 
with  a  taper  in  her  hand  and  her  face 
chalked.  What  she  desired  o'  me  was, 
that  I  should  come  to  the  blue  room  with 
her,  and  there  remain  while  she  played  off 
this  pretty  fantasy  on  my  lord  and  Marian. 

To  be  truthful  in  these  my  last  days  o' 
earth,  I  liked  not  my  proffered  office  o'er- 
well.  Howbeit,  that  night  did  I  do  the  bid 
ding  o'  my  young  mistress,  and — loath  am 
I  to  speak  of  it,  even  at  this  late  day — 
'twas  the  cause  of  my  young  master's  leav 
ing  his  home  and  going  to  bide  in  foreign 
countries. 

Ah,  bitter  tears  did  his  sister  weep,  and 
with  mine  own  eyes  I  saw  her,  on  the  day 
he  set  forth,  cling  to  his  neck,  and  when  he 
shook  her  thence,  hang  about  his  loins,  and 


io  A  Brother  to  Dragons. 

when  at  last  he  pushed  her  to  the  ground, 
she  laid  her  hands  about  his  feet  and  wept ; 
and  between  every  sob  it  was,  "  Go  not, 
brother,  for  my  fault !  Go  not,  brother,  for 
my  fault !"  or  else,  "  Robin,  Robin,  dost  not 
love  me  enough  to  forgive  me  so  little?" 
and  then, "  If  thou  didst  but  love  me  a  lit 
tle,  thou  couldst  forgive  me  much."  But 
he  stepped  free  of  her  hands  and  went 
his  ways,  and  my  lady  lay  with  her  head 
where  his  feet  had  been,  and  was  still. 

Then  Marian,  who  was  very  wroth  with 
me  for  my  part  in  the  matter,  did  up  with 
her  nursling  in  her  own  proper  strong  arms 
(for  she  was  aye  a  strong  lass,  that  being 
one  o'  the  chief  reasons  for  which  I  had 
sought  her  in  marriage — having  had,  as 
should  all  men,  an  eye  to  my  posterity. 
It  was  a  great  cross  to  me,  as  may  be 
thought,  to  find  that  all  my  forethought 
had  been  in  vain,  and  that  while  Turnip, 
the  farrier,  had  eight  as  fine  lads  as  one 
would  care  to  father,  of  a  puny  wench 


A  Brother  to  Dragons.  1 1 

that  my  Marian  could  have  slipped  in  her 
pocket,  Mistress  Butter  presented  me  with 
no  children,  weakly  or  healthy).  But,  as 
I  have  said,  Marian,  in  her  own  arms,  did 
carry  my  lady  up -stairs  to  her  chamber, 
and  laid  her  on  the  day-bed. 

And  by-and-by  she  opes  her  eyes  (for 
Marian  agreed  that  I  sate  on  the  threshold), 
and  says  she,  putting  out  her  hand  half- 
fearful-like, "  Is't  thou,  brother?" 

"Nay,  honey,"  saith  Marian;  "it  is  I, 
thy  Marian,  thy  nurse." 

Then  said  my  lady,  "  Ay,  nurse ;  but  my 
brother,  he  is  below  —  is't  not  so?"  But 
when  Marian  shook  her  head,  my  lady  sate 
up  on  the  day-bed  and  caught  hold  of  her 
short  curls,  and  cried  out, "  I  have  banished 
him  !  I  have  made  him  an  outlaw !  I  have 
banished  him !"  And  for  days  she  lay  like 
one  whose  soul  was  sped. 

Well,  the  young  lord  came  not  back,  nor 
would  he  write;  so  we  knew  not  whether 
he  were  alive  or  dead.  Yet  were  Marian 


12  A  Brother  to  Dragons. 

and  myself  not  unhopeful,  for  full  oft  did 
the  heady  boy  find  some  such  cause  of  dis 
agreement  with  his  sister  to  abide  apart 
from  her.  But  when  we  saw  that  in  truth 
he  came  not  back,  and  that  week  sped 
after  week,  and  month  did  follow  month, 
and  still  no  tidings,  we  had  perforce  to  ac 
knowledge  that  the  young  lord  was  indeed 
gone  to  return  no  more. 

The  Lady  Margaret,  in  her  loneliness, 
grew  into  many  strange  ways.  She  did 
outride  any  man  in  the  county,  and  she  had 
a  blue-roan  by  the  name  of  Robin  Hood ; 
which  same,  methinks,  no  man  in  or  out  o' 
th'  county  would  'a'  cared  to  bestride.  She 
would  walk  over  to  Pebworth  ('  piping  Peb- 
worth,'  as  Master  Shakespeare  hath  dubbed 
it)  and  back  again,  a  distance  o'  some  six 
miles ;  and  afterwards  set  forth  for  a  gallop 
on  Robin  Hood,  and  be  no  more  a-weary, 
come  eventide,  than  myself  from  a  trip 
'round  the  gardens.  She  swam  like  a  sea 
maid,  she  had  fenced  even  better  than  her 


A  Brother  to  Dragons.  13 

brother,  and  methinks  she  was  the  bonni 
est  shot  with  a  long-bow  of  any  woman  in 
all  England.  She  was  but  fifteen  when 
my  lord  left  Amhurste  for  aye,  and  in  the 
years  since  she  had  grown  mightily,  and 
was  waxed  as  strong  as  Marian,  and  full 
a  head  taller.  But  she  had  long,  curved 
flanks  that  saved  her  from  buxomness ; 
and  her  head  was  set  high  and  light  on 
her  shoulders,  like  a  bird  that  floats  on 
a  wave,  and  o'er  it  ran  her  bright  curls, 
the  one  o'er  the  other,  like  little  wavelets. 
Her  eyes  were  as  gray  as  a  sword,  and 
as  keen,  and  she  had  broad  lids  as  white 
as  satin -flowers,  and  there  was  a  fine 
black  ring  around  them,  made  by  her 
long  lashes. 

My  lady  was  courted  by  many  a  fine 
lord,  and  more  than  three  youngsters  have 
I  seen  weep  because  of  her  coldness  tow 
ards  them ;  speeding  them  away  out  o' 
the  sight  o'  mankind  (as  they  thought),  and 
casting  themselves  along  the  lush  grass  in 


14  A  Brother  to  Dragons. 

my  lady's  garden,  there  to  bleat  and  bleat, 
like  moon-calves  for  the  moon. 

For  one  lad  did  my  heart  bleed,  verily. 
Twas  for  the  young  Lord  of  Mallow — but 
a  lad  with  buttercup  curls  and  speedwell 
eyes,  and  a  smile  to  win  the  love  o'  any 
maid  in  her  reason  (though,  to  be  sure,  my 
lady  was  in  her  reason).  He  comes  to  me 
and  gets  between  my  knees,  like  any  little 
eanling  that  might  'a'  been  mine  own,  and 
quoth  he : 

"  Butter,  Butter,  she  loves  thee !  Wilt 
thou  not  speak  to  her,  and  tell  her  that  she 
shall  be  the  richest  lady  in  all  England, 
and  maid  of  honor  to  the  Queen,  and  have 
more  jewels  than  the  Queen  herself?  Oh, 
Butter !"  cried  he. 

Then  said  I,  a-stroking  of  the  yellow 
gossamer  that  bestrewed  his  shoulders,  as 
he  knelt,  head  bowed,  between  my  knees, 
"  Nay,  my  lord,  'tis  not  so  that  thou  shalt 
win  the  Lady  Margaret.  She  careth  no 
more  for  jewels  than  she  doth  for  the  beads 


A  Brother  to  Dragons.  15 

in  a  rainbow ;  nor  doth  she  care  for  riches. 
And  methinks  a  maid  who  would  marry 
just  to  be  maid  of  honor  to  a  queen  would 
not  be  an  honorable  maid  either  to  her 
self  or  to  her  sovereign  ;"  for  so  indeed 
I  thought. 

Then  saith  he,  "  Butter,  dost  thou  be 
lieve  in  love-philters  ?" 

And  I  asked  his  meaning,  for  verily  I 
was  ignorant  of  't,  albeit  I  was  not  igno 
rant  in  all  matters.  And  he  explained  to 
me  that  it  was  a  drink  or  potion  to  cause 
love. 

Then  I  answered,  and  said,  "  Calamint 
doth  make  a  good  brew,  likewise  sage, 
and  some  flax  is  soothing,  but  methinks 
none  o'  these  would  cause  love." 

On  this  he  wept  again,  but  said  that  I 
was  a  good  old  man,  and  that  on  his  return 
to  Mallow  he  would  send  me  a  gift ;  and  so 
he  did — a  pair  o'  silk  hose,  such  as  my  lady 
and  the  Queen  do  wear;  but  being  mind 
ful  of  my  station,  I  laid  them  aside  for  the 


1 6  A  Brother  to  Dragons. 

sake  o'  th'  poor  lad,  and  yesterday  Marian 
did  bring  them  to  me,  with  her  ten  fingers 
through  as  many  moth-holes.  Whereupon 
I  was  minded  o'  th'  text  concerning  that 
we  lay  not  up  treasures  where  moth  and 
rust  do  corrupt,  and  at  my  behest  Marian 
read  me  the  whole  of  that  chapter.  But 
to  return  to  bare  facts. 

It  was  on  a  certain  night  in  March  that 
there  occurred  the  conversation  which  was 
the  cause  of  this  narrative.  There  had 
been  news  of  the  return  of  one  Lord  Den- 
beigh  to  Warwickshire — by  report  as  wild  a 
cavalier  as  ever  fought,  and  a  godless  body 
to  boot.  Marian,  who,  as  I  have  said,  had 
always  a  certain  knack  for  ghost  stories  and 
the  like,  froze  me  with  her  accounts  o'  this 
wild  lord's  doings.  Quoth  she : 

"  Fire-brace  is  a  suiting  name  for  him, 
inasmuch  as  'tis  a  family  name,  and  he  a 
fire-brand  to  peace  wheresome'er  he  shall 

go." 

"  Peace — peace  thyself !"   quoth   I,  hear- 


A  Brother  to  Dragons.  1 7 

ing  my  lady's  foot  along  the  hall.  And, 
o'  my  word,  Marian  had  but  just  ceased, 
and  given  her  attention  to  the  fire,  when 
in  clatters  my  lady,  with  her  riding-whip 
stuck  in  her  glove,  and  her  blood-hound 
Hearn  in  a  leash.  She  was  much  wrought, 
either  with  riding  or  rage,  for  there  was  a 
quick  red  in  her  cheek,  and  she  had  set 
her  red  lips  until  they  were  white.  Then 
took  she  the  hound  between  her  knees,  and 
plucked  off  her  gloves.  Here  I  did  find  it 
my  duty  to  speak. 

"  My  lady,"  cried  I,  "  'tis  not  in  your  mind 
to  baste  the  dog?" 

"Ay,  that  it  is,"  quoth  she,  and  her  lips 
went  tighter,  and  she  jerked  at  her  glove. 

Then  said  I,  "  How  if  he  leap  at  thy 
throat?"  And  she  answered,  "Nay,  he 
knows  better;"  and  with  that  she  gripped 
his  collar,  and  let  swing  her  whip.  Then 
did  I  bid  Marian  that  she  leave  the  room. 
As  for  me,  it  was  my  duty  to  stay,  though, 
as  I  have  given  an  oath  to  tell  but  the  truth 
2 


1 8  A  Brother  to  Dragons. 

in  this  narrative,  I  must  confess  that  I  was 
in  a  sweat  from  head  to  foot  with  fear. 

But  the  great  hound  crouched  as  though 
he  knew  he  got  but  what  he  deserved,  and 
when  my  lady  had  given  him  ten  or  twenty 
lashes  she  flung  wide  the  door,  and  said  she, 
"  Get  thee  gone,  coward  !  Go  fare  as  fares 
the  poor  beggar  thou  sought'st  to  bite !" 
and  the  hound  slunk  out.  Then  turned  my 
mistress  to  me,  and — "Butter,"  saith  she, 
"yon  beast  sought  to  bite  an  old  beggar  as 
we  came  through  the  park,  so  I  whipped 
him.  But  for  naught  save  cruelty  or  dis 
obedience  will  I  ever  whip  a  dog ;  so,  But 
ter,  the  next  time  that  thou  seest  me  about 
to  lash  one,  keep  thy  counsel."  (This  was 
the  harshest  that  my  lady  e'er  spoke,  ei 
ther  to  me  or  to  Marian.)  Then  went  she 
to  the  door  and  called  Marian. 

"  Come,  nurse,"  quoth  she,  "  I  am  a-weary. 
Fling  me  some  skins  on  the  settle,  and  I 
will  lie  down,  and  thou  shalt  card  out  my 
locks  with  thy  fingers."  So  we  heaped  the 


A  Brother  to  Dragons.  1 9 

settle  with  the  skins  o'  white  bears,  and 
thereon  my  lady  cast  herself,  like  a  flower 
blown  down  upon  a  snow-bank ;  and  by- 
and-by,  what  with  the  warmth  and  Marian's 
strokings,  she  fell  into  a  deep  sleep.  But 
we  two  sate  and  gazed  on  her. 

She  was  all  clad  in  a  tirfit  riding-dress 

o  o 

of  green  velour  cloth,  and  her  white  face 
seemed  to  come  from  the  close  collar  like  a 
white  lily  from  its  sheath.  She  was  e'er 
flower-like,  asleep  or  waking,  as  I  have  said, 
and  her  pretty  head  was  sleek  and  yellow, 
like  a  butterfly's  wing.  She  was  so  sound 
that  it.  appeared  to  me  and  Marian  as 
though  one  longer  breath  might  transform 
the  mimicry  into  the  actual  thing — death. 
But  by-and-by  awe  fell  from  us,  as  it  doth 
ever  fall,  even  in  the  presence  of  that  which 
hath  awed  us,  and  my  wife  and  I  did  return 
to  our  discourse  concerning  my  Lord  Den- 
beigh. 

Quoth  I  to  Marian,  "  But,  wife,  may  not 
malice  invent  these  tales  ?" 


20  A  Brother  to  Dragons. 

"  Nay,  nay,"  said  she,  shaking  her  head ; 
"  as  bloody  a  rogue  as  ever  lived — as  bloody 
a  rogue  as  ever  lived.  They  do  say  as  how 
he'll  set  a  whole  tavern  in  a  broil  ere  he  be 
entered  in  for  three  minutes." 

"  But,"  quoth  I,  "  may  he  not  be  pro 
voked  ?" 

"  Nay,  I  tell  thee,"  said  she ;  "  but  he'll 
jump  at  a  body's  head,  and  cleave  't  open 
ere  a  body  can  say  '  Jesus.' " 

At  this  I  said,  firmly,  "  I  doubt  not  but 
what  the  poor  man  is  most  surely  ma 
ligned."  Whereupon  Mistress  Butter  did 
wax  exceeding  wroth. 

"  Why  wilt  thou  e'er  be  seeking  to  plead 
the  cause  o'  villains  ?"  cried  she.  "  First 
that  bloody  beast  o'  my  lady's,  now  this 
bloody  villain  o'  th'  devil's.  I  do  wonder  at 
thee,  Anthony  Butter."  Whereat  I  did  put 
in  that  I  sometimes  wondered  at  myself. 

"  For  why  ?"  quoth  she. 

"  Why,  that  I  ever  married  to  be  word 
ed  by  a  wench,"  said  I.  And  at  this  I  am 


A  Brother  to  Dragons.  21 

most  entirely  sure  that  she  would  have  cast 
her  joint-stool  at  me,  had  she  not  been  sit 
ting  on  't,  and  my  lady's  head  against  her 
knee.  So  she  called  me  a  "  zany,"  and  then 
after  a  little  a  "  toad,"  but  went  on  stroking 
my  lady's  hair. 

And,  by -and- by,  back  we  come  to  his 
lordship. 

"  'Tis  not  alone  his  bloody  tricks  and 
murderous  ways,"  quoth  my  wife,  "  that 
causes  all  Christian  folk  to  abhor  him,  but 
he  consorts  with  no  other  women  than 
drabs  and  callets.  Dost  excuse  that  ?" 

"  Nay,"  said  I,  with  sufficient  gravity, 
"  then  is  this  earl  no  longer  a  man,  but 
a  swine,  and  not  fit  for  men's  discussion, 
much  less  that  of  women." 

At  this  reproof  I  saw  anger  again  in 
her  eye,  but  she  was  so  pleased  withal  at 
having  got  me  to  call  Lord  Denbeigh  a 
swine  that  she  forebore  any  further  per 
sonal  affront. 

"And  yet,"  she  went  on, "  they  do  say  he 


22  A  Brother  to  Dragons. 

be  as  fine  a  man  as  a  wench  will  walk 
through  the  rain  to  glimpse  at,  and  a  brave 
and  a  learned ;  but  that  he  wed  a  Span 
ish  maid,  and  she  betrayed  him,  and  so 
he  hath  vowed  to  'hate  women,  one  and 
all." 

"  Hast  thou  seen  him  ?" 

"  Nay,  but  I've  had  him  itemized  to  me 
by  the  wife  o'  Humfrey  Lemon.  A  blue 
eye,  a  hooked  nose,  a — " 

"  Well,  well,  wife,"  quoth  I,  "  if  a  blue  eye 
and  a  hooked  nose  be  as  bad  signs  in  a 
man  as  they  be  in  a  horse,  methinks  this 
thy  villain  is  a  very  round  villain." 

"And  so  he  is,"  affirmed  she. 

"  Yet,"  said  I,  "  there  is  somewhere  in 
me  a  something  that  doth  pity  him." 

"  By  my  troth !"  cried  my  wife.  "  I  do 
believe,  Master  Butter,  that  thou'dst  pity 
the  Devil's  wife  in  childbirth." 

"Ay,  that  I  would  !"  I  made  answer,  with 
a  great  calmness,  for  I  saw  that  she  sought 
to  rouse  my  spleen. 


A  Brother  to  Dragons.  23 

"  Well,  do  not  bellow,"  blurted  she,  "  for 
my  mistress  is  as  sound  as  a  gold-piece." 

Then  quoth  my  lady,  a-rising  up  on  her 
elbow, 

"  Nay,  that  she  is  not.  And,  moreover, 
she  would  hear  all  the  stones  concerning 
this  bad  and  blood}^  Lord  of  Denbeigh  !" 


II. 

When  Marian  heard  my  lady  so  speak, 
methought  she  would  have  swooned  in  ver 
ity;  for  she  knew  my  lady's  contempt  for 
gossip.  E'en  for  the  first  time  in  all  her 
life,  Marian  could  not  find  a  word  to  her 
tongue. 

"  La !  my  lady,"  said  she,  and  then  stop 
ped  and  was  silent.  My  lady  laughed  at 
her,  with  her  deep  eyes;  but  as  was  her 
wont,  her  mouth  was  wondrous  solemn. 

"Ay,  nurse,"  quoth  she,  "  thou  thought'st 
me  safe  i'  th'  Land  o1  Nod,  but  one  hath 


24  A  Brother  to  Dragons. 

ears  to  hear  there  as  elsewhere."  Then 
she  reaches  out  one  hand  and  plays  with 
Marian's  ruff.  "  Go  to,  nurse,"  says  she. 
"  Dost  thou  not  see  I  am  even  i'  th'  same 
case  with  thyself  ?  I  too  would  gossip  a  lit 
tle.  Come,  word  it — word  it !" 

So  Marian  told  her  all  that  she  had 
heard,  together  with  a  little  prophesying 
here  and  there,  which  boded  no  good  to 
my  Lord  Denbeigh.  She  told  how  he 
had  e'en  been  a  brave  lad,  but  how  in 
Spain  he  had  wed  with  a  wife  who  played 
him  false ;  how  then  he  had  vowed  venge 
ance  on  all  womankind,  becoming  a  brawl 
er  and  a  haunter  o'  taverns;  how  death 
was  in  his  sword  and  lightnings  in  his  eye. 

My  lady  listened,  and  now  and  again  she 
would  pinch  her  eyelids  softly  with  her 
thumb  and  ring-finger,  as  one  who  is  deep 
in  thought.  But  when  Marian  paused  for 
breath,  she  turned  to  her,  and  quoth  she, 

"  Nurse,  thou  hast  often  preached  unto 
me ;  listen  now  to  my  preachings.  Thou 


A  Brother  to  Dragons.  25 

shalt  often  hear  a  man  abused,  nurse,  but 
chiefly  for  that  which  he  hath  never  done. 
This  wild  lord,  I  doubt  not,  hath  been  guil 
ty  of  sorry  deeds.  What  man  hath  not? 
But  the  half  that  thou  hast  told  me  is  not 
to  be  believed." 

Then  went  she  to  her  room,  taking  Ma 
rian  with  her,  but  I  saw  that  she  was 
moved. 

It  was  but  the  next  day  that  my  lady's 
uncle,  Sir  John  Trenyon,  came  riding  into 
the  court.  He  often  came  in  such  wise,  to 
bide  for  a  day  or  two  with  his  niece.  A 
most  courteous  gentleman ;  red  of  face, 
blue  of  eye,  and  blithe  of  tongue.  He 
had  a  jest  for  each  tick  o'  th'  clock,  and 
a  kind  word  for  all. 

"  Ah,  Butter,"  saith  he,  "  and  where  is  thy 
mistress  ?  And  thy  wife,  the  good  Dame 
Marian — where  is  she?  And  how  about 
thy  family  ?  Hast  thou  no  better  prospects 
than  of  yore  ?" 

Whereat   I  looked   sorrowful   enough,  I 


26  A  Brother  to  Dragons. 

doubt  not,  for  he  did  bid  me  take  heart,  as 
my  first-born  might  have  had  a  hare-lip  or 
a  crook-back.  Then  did  he  toss  me  his 
bridle-reins,  and  my  lady,  having  heard  his 
voice,  came  forth  to  meet  him. 

"So,  lady- bird!"  quoth  he,  clasping  her. 
"  I  am  come  for  no  less  than  three  rea 
sons  this  time.  First,  to  see  thy  bonny 
face.  Second,  to  ride  thy  bonny  Robin. 
Third,  to  inquire  and  seek  out  a  certain 
villain  of  mine  acquaintance,  of  whom  you 
have  doubtless  heard ;"  and  forthwith  did 
he  say  to  her  of  how  the  wicked  Lord 
Denbeigh  was  the  son  of  a  friend  and 
comrade,  and  of  how  he  had  known  him 
when  a  lad,  together  with  much  more,  at 
which  my  lady  pricked  up  her  ears,  as 
'twere,  having  all  a  lady's  love  for  stories 
of  wicked  men  who  are  not  yet  either  old 
or  ill-favored. 

"  By  my  troth,"  declared  the  old  knight 
in  ending,  "  I  will  take  but  a  mouthful  to 
stay  me,  and  then  set  forth  straightway  in 


A  Brother  to  Dragons.  27 

quest  o'  th'  rascal."  So  having  dined  right 
heartily,  he  rode  forth  again. 

Now,  having  related  this  hap  to  Marian, 
she  was  devoured  of  so  great  a  curiosity 
that,  as  I  am  an  honest  man,  I  looked  to 
see  her  consumed  even  unto  her  bones,  as 
some  men  who  burn  of  drink.  She  would 
have  it  that  I  must  hazard  a  guess  on  the 
shape  of  Lord  Denbeigh's  nose,  the  color 
of  his  hair,  and  the  height  of  his  body. 
She  forced  me  to  wonder  whether  he  were 
civil  or  rude  of  tongue.  She  pressed  me 
to  say  whether  I  thought  there  was  aye 
a  chance  of  his  returning  with  Sir  John. 
She  questioned  me,  in  a  word,  until,  hav 
ing  no  answers,  I  was  like  to  lose  my  wits, 
or  my  temper,  or  both  together.  At  last 
comes  she  and  sits  on  my  knee,  and  tickles 
the  back  of  my  neck  right  playfully,  as  in 
the  days  of  our  wooing. 

"  As  I  live,  Tony,"  quoth  she,  "  we  are 
like  to  have  a  strange  story  under  our 
very  noses.  What  if" — and  here  she 


28  A  Brother  to  Dragons. 

takes  my  face  in  her  two  hands,  and  sets 
her  chin  against  mine,  so  that  I  see  four 
round  blue  eyes  against  her  white  brow, 
and  am  like  to  go  blind  with  her  thought 
lessness — "what  if  it  turns  out  that  the 
Lord  hath  set  upon  our  lady  to  be  the 
saviour  of  this  wicked  earl  ?" 

"Ay,"  cried  I.  "And  what  if  the  Lord 
hath  set  upon  me  to  be  the  founder  of 
a  nation,  like  Abraham  ?  What  then  ?" 
At  which  she  boxed  my  ears  right  sound 
ly.  But  I  could  not  blame  her,  for  in 
the  wrong  I  was,  without  doubt,  although 
verily  she  had  plagued  me  into  it.  So 
I  sued  for  pardon,  and  got  it,  and  a 
kiss  into  the  bargain.  But  she  would 
not  leave  me  in  peace  concerning  Lord 
Denbeigh. 

When  that  same  afternoon  there  comes 
Sir  John  a-riding  past,  and  the  bad  earl  at 
his  side,  "  What  dost  thou  say  now  ?"  quoth 
Marian,  a-plucking  me  in  a  way  that  did 
not  serve  to  increase  good  feeling  betwixt 


A  Brother  to  Dragons.  29 

us.  "  Ah  ha !  Are  not  women  prophet 
esses  by  nature  ?" 

"Ay,  by  ill-nature,"  answered  I;  and  for 
this  quip  I  was  not  forgiven  for  two  days. 

It  was  towards  the  setting  of  the  sun 
when  Sir  John  and  Lord  Denbeigh  rode 
up  to  the  door  of  Amhurste,  and  my  lady, 
knowing  naught,  came  out  at  the  sound  of 
the  horses'  feet,  thinking  only  to  greet  her 
uncle.  The  red  light  from  the  west  shone 
on  her,  and  dabbled  her  white  kirtle  as 
with  blood,  and  her  face  was  like  one  of 
the  red  roses  in  her  garden.  So  she  put 
up  her  hand  to  shield  it,  and  saw  the 
stranger  standing  at  her  feet. 

There  was  ne'er  a  nobler -looking  man, 
for  all  he  might  outblack  Satan  in  his 
soul :  straight  of  body,  and  strong  of  limb, 
and  lofty  of  head.  His  hair  was  the  col 
or  of  my  lady's,  and  there  seemed  to  be 
ever  some  sunshine  in  it,  as  he  moved 
his  head.  Methought  his  face  was  fair 
and  goodly  to  look  upon,  albeit  his  lips 


30  A  Brother  to  Dragons. 

went  downward  at  the  corners,  and  there 
was  a  droop  in  his  broad  lids.  He  was 
clad  all  in  a  close  suit  of  dark  velvet,  and 
in  his  hand  he  held  a  black  hat  with  a  knot 
of  heron-plumes. 

My  lady  stood  and  looked  down  at  him 
from  under  her  long,  white  hand,  and  he 
stood  and  looked  up  at  my  lady,  as  one 
looks  upward  at  a  fair  picture.  And  the 
evening  light  crept  between  them.  I  was 
ashamed  of  my  own  folly,  when  I  did  catch 
myself  remembering  Marian's  silly  sayings ; 
but  for  all  that,  they  did  come  back  to  me, 
as  the  words  of  a  foolish  woman  will  return 
to  the  wisest  of  men.  And  in  truth  he  did 
gaze  up  at  her,  as  though  she  were  more 
holy  than  the  heavens  above  her.  And 
for  all  her  hand,  the  sunset  found  its  way 
unto  her  cheek. 

What  I  now  relate  was  told  me  by 
Marian  some  three  days  after.  'Twas  on 
the  night  of  the  day  on  which  Sir  John 
had  brought  the  stranger  to  Amhurste, 


A  Brother  to  Dragons.  31 

and  Marian  was  carding  out  my  lady's 
tresses  before  her  bedroom  fire. 

Quoth  my  lady,  suddenly,  "  Nurse,  didst 
thou  see  Lord  Denbeigh  ere  he  went  ?" 

And  Marian  said  that  she  had  seen  him. 

"  He  hath  a  strange  face,  nurse." 

"  How  '  strange,'  my  lady  ?" 

"Why,  it  seems  to  me  that  each  feature 
in  it  doth  contradict  the  other.  His  brow 
is  stern,  and  saith  to  his  eyes,  '  Ye  shall 
not  be  gentle.'  His  eyes  say  to  his  nose, 
'  Spread  not  thy  nostrils  so  proudly.'  His 
nose  commands  his  lips  that  they  smile 
not;  but,  nurse,  there  was  ne'er  a  sweeter 
smile  on  the  lips  o'  a  saint !" 

Marian  fell  a-thinking,  and  pulled  my 
lady's  hair.  My  lady  heeded  it  not,  so 
Marian  fell  a-thinking  yet  more  deeply. 

"  It  is  not  a  face  that  tells  of  a  bad 
heart,"  continued  my  lady.  "  Rather  it 
speaks  of  rebellion  and  misfortune.  A 
sad  story — a  sad  story." 

"  What  is,  my  lady  ?"  asked  Marian  ;  but 


32  A  Brother  to  Dragons. 

my  lady  was  far  away,  whither  Marian 
could  not  follow. 

"  Nurse,"  she  saith,  presently,  "  that  were 
a  soul  worth  saving."  Then  got  she  sud 
denly  to  her  feet,  and  turned  and  took  her 
nurse's  hands  with  hers.  "  It  shall  be  saved," 
she  saith,  "  God  helping." 

And  she  kissed  Marian,  and  lay  down 
upon  her  bed.  But  Marian  did  tell  me  how 
that  no  sleep  visited  her  lady's  eyes  that 
night.  Through  the  darkness  she  could 
hear  her  turn,  first  on  this  side,  then  on 
that ;  then  sigh  and  move  her  pillow,  and 
sigh  again. 

Methought  Marian  would  have  split  in 
sunder  with  importance,  when  Lord  Den- 
beigh  took  to  coming  sometimes  to  Am- 
hurste.  'Twas  never  for  even  an  hour 
that  he  stayed ;  and  'twas  always  some 
question  of  business  that  brought  him. 
But  my  lady  and  he  touched  hands  full 
oft  during  a  week,  and  always  he  would 
look  at  her  with  a  different  look  from  that 


A  Brother  to  Dragons.  33 

which  his  eyes  did  wear  at  other  times. 
And  she  spoke  to  him  e'er  courteously 
and  kindly,  even  as  though  he  had  been 
a  holy  man  and  worthy  of  all  reverence. 

One  day  it  chanced  that  my  lady  rode 
the  blue -roan  out  into  the  woods,  towards 
the  hut  of  old  Joan  Gobble,  who  was  crip 
pled  by  reason  of  age.  My  lady  had  me 
follow  her  on  Dumble,  th?  white  nag,  with 
a  pat  o'  butter  and  some  wine.  I  was  taken 
up  with  pondering  as  to  why  my  lady  should 
go  in  person  to  Dame  Gobble's,  seeing  she 
might  have  sent  me  alone  on  Dumble  as 
well.  Be  that  as  it  may,  as  we  rode  along 
by  a  brook-side,  under  the  thick  leaves,  whom 
should  we  come  upon  but  my  Lord  Den- 
beigh.  He  was  kneeling  beside  the  water, 
and  holding  down  his  hand  into  the  brook. 
As  I  looked  I  saw  that  his  hand  was  be 
fouled  with  gore,  and  that  the  brown  stream 
did  rush  away  ruddily  from  beneath  his  fin 
gers. 

My  lady  did  not  wait  for  me  to  hold 
3 


34  A  Brother  to  Dragons. 

Robin  Hood,  but  did  swing  herself  from 
her  saddle,  and  was  beside  the  earl  in  a 
trice.  He  looked  up,  and  seeing  her,  did 
start  upon  his  feet. 

"  Nay,"  said  she,  putting  out  her  hand, 
"  but  tell  me  if  I  can  aid  thee." 

And  he  strove  to  hide  his  hand  at  his 
side,  saying.  "  'Tis  but  a  scratch ;"  but 
the  blood  ran  down  like  water  on  the 
grass. 

"  Think  not  to  spare  me  the  sight  o' 
blood,"  said  my  lady,  "  for  I  am  learned  in 
bandaging  wounds."  And  certes  she  was, 
seeing  that  every  soul  at  Amhurste  did 
come  to  her  for  healing,  let  a  cat  but 
scratch  them.  And  she  took  his  hand  be 
tween  her  two  fair  hands  (having  drawn  off 
her  gloves),  and  saw  that  his  wrist  was  deep 
ly  severed  as  with  a  knife.  But  she  asked 
him  no  questions,  telling  him  only  to  stoop 
while  she  cleansed  his  hand  sufficiently  to 
bind  it.  And  as  she  laid  it  in  the  water, 
and  pressed  the  lips  of  the  wound  together, 


A  Brother  to  Dragons.  35 

he  said  unto  her  in  a  low  tone,  not  mean 
ing  that  I  should  hear  him, 

"  Would  that  thou  couldst  wash  my  soul 
as  thou  hast  washed  my  hand !" 

She  looked  straight  into  his  eyes,  with 
her  own  so  clear  and  honest,  like  a  dog's 
(meaning  no  disrespect  to  my  lady,  as  God 
knows),  and  she  answered  him  and  saith, 

"It  were  well  worth  the  washing,  my  lord ; 
but  an  higher  than  I  must  cleanse  it." 

And  he  saith,  "  There  is  none  higher." 

At  that  my  lady's  blood  rose  in  her 
cheek,  but  she  besought  him  that  he  would 
not  speak  to  her  in  such  wise.  When 
she  had  made  a  compress  of  the  napkins 
in  the  basket  wherein  I  was  carrying 
Dame  Gobble's  butter,  and  had  stanch 
ed  the  blood,  she  unwound  the  ribbon 
from  her  silver  hunting-horn,  and  cast  it 
about  his  neck  for  a  rest  to  his  wound 
ed  arm.  Then  he  did  bend  down  his 
head  and  kissed  the  ribbon,  and  my  lady 
turned  quickly,  and  got  upon  the  roan, 


36  A  Brother  to  Dragons. 

and  rode  away  at  so  smart  a  pace  that 
methinks  Dame  Gobble's  butter  and  wine 
did  reach  her  in  a  closer  conjunction  than 
she  could  have  found  pleasant. 

When  I  told  Marian  of  this  encounter, 
merely  by  the  way  of  a  bit  of  gossip,  she 
did  smile  in  such  a  wise  that  I  was  mind 
ed  to  cuff  a  woman  for  the  first  time  in 
a  long  life. 

It  was  that  same  night  that  Marian  did 
tell  me  how  that  she  feared  the  earl  was 
in  danger  of  some  sort,  judging  by  certain 
words  that  my  lady  had  let  fall  in  her 
sleep.  I  noticed  how  that  my  lady  seem 
ed  restless,  and  would  start  at  the  clap  o' 
a  door,  or  when  Herne  did  come  suddenly 
upon  her.  And  one  day  she  leaned  from 
a  window,  as  I  swept  up  the  rose-leaves 
from  the  grass  on  the  east  terrace,  and 
called  to  me  to  come  thither.  She  was  as 
white  as  her  kirtle,  and  her  gray  eyes  were 
dark  like  water  before  a  storm.  She  did 
not  look  at  me,  but  beyond  into  the  air. 


A  Brother  to  Dragons.  37 

So  I  waited,  having  plucked  off  my  cap, 
and  my  lady  stood  looking,  looking ;  and 
after  a  while  she  saith, 

"  Thou  hast  aye  been  a  true  and  faithful 
servant  unto  me :  therefore  I  am  about  to 
give  unto  thee  a  great  charge." 

And  I  said,  "  My  lady,  thou  knowest  that 
thou  canst  trust  me ;"  and  in  truth  I  could 
say  no  more,  for  my  throat  \vas  stiff. 

And  she  continued  and  said, 

"  Thou  must  be  to  -  night  at  the  Red 
Deer,  and  that  by  nine  of  the  clock.  One 
will  be  there  in  whom  we  have  both  deep 
interest.  I  cannot  tell  thee  more.  Take 
thy  sword  with  thee,  but  have  no  fear — 
thou  wilt  have  no  cause  to  use  it.  Yet, 
lest  thou  be  fearful,  take  it  with  thee.'1 
And  she  said, "  Thou  wilt  remember  ?" 

"  My  lady,  when  have  I  e'er  forgotten 
word  of  thine  ?"  Whereat  she  did  put 
out  her  fair  hand  to  me,  saying,  "  Never," 
and  there  were  tears  in  her  eyes. 

So  that  night  (for  the  first  time  in  many 


38  A  Brother  to  Dragons. 

years)  did  I  find  myself  within  the  doors 
of  the  Red  Deer.  A  cosey  place  it  was, 
despite  the  wine-bibbers  that  did  profane  it; 
and  the  inn -keeper's  wife,  a  most  buxom, 
eye-pleasing  wench,  with  three  sturdy  boys 
aye  clambering  about  her.  As  I  looked, 
some  hard  and  sinful  thoughts  did  visit 
my  heart  concerning  the  bounty  that  the 
Lord  had  lavished  upon  one  who  was  a 
barterer  of  wine,  when  I,  who  had  lived 
ever  a  temperate  and  (in  so  far  as  was  in 
my  power)  a  godly  life,  should  remain  child 
less.  But  I  did  conquer  at  last,  bidding 
Satan  get  behind  me,  and  was  left  in  peace 
to  toast  my  feet,  and  to  ponder  as  to  who 
it  was  that  my  lady  had  sent  me  thither  to 
mark.  Had  I  not  loved  my  lady  with  all 
my  heart,  methinks  I  could  not  have  stood 
the  terms  that  were  heaped  upon  me  by 
the  brawlers.  I  will  not  repeat  the  foul 
slanders ;  suffice  it  to  say,  I  sustained  for 
one  half  hour  what  few  men  are  called 
upon  to  endure  throughout  a  lifetime. 


A  Brother  to  Dragons.  39 

At  last,  the  newness  being  gone,  they  left 
me  in  peace,  and  I,  being  settled  safely  in 
my  corner,  did  set  to  work  to  watch  the 
door. 

Who  should  enter  at  that  very  moment 
but  my  Lord  Denbeigh  !  He  was  wrapped 
in  a  long  brown  cloak,  and  wore  a  broad 
hat,  unornamented  by  plume  or  buckle, 
pulled  down  over  his  eyes.  He  came  and 
tossed  himself  into  a  chair  near  the  fire, 
and  sat  there  pondering  upon  the  coals, 
with  his  legs  out  in  front  of  him.  Now, 
I  have  ever  had  a  woman  -  weakness  for 
a  goodly  leg  in  man,  and  the  splendid 
limbs  of  Lord  Denbeigh  did  witch  me  into 
a  steadier  gaze  than  that  which  civility 
doth  permit.  This  by -and -by  he  did  no 
tice,  and  so  spoke  to  me. 

"  At  what  art  thou  staring,  ancient  ?" 
quoth  he,  not  unkindly.  So  I  told  him, 
whereupon  he  laughed  somewhat. 

"  Methinks  thou  art  but  a  doting  body," 
he  said,  "  and  yet  is  thy  face  familiar. 


40  A  Brother  to  Dragons. 

What  now  ?  Hast  thou  e'er  met  with  me 
before  ?" 

Then  did  I  lie  right  roundly,  being,  to 
confess  the  truth,  not  a  little  afraid. 

"Out.  on  thee,"saith  his  lordship;  "the 
truth  is  not  in  thee.  I  ne'er  forget  a  face ; 
how,  then,  shall  I  forget  a  face  such  as 
thine?  Certes  I  have  seen  thee  before. 
Wilt  thou  colt  me  ?" 

And  again  lied  I  —  blackly,  most  abom 
inably. 

"  As  thou  wilt,"  quoth  he ;  "  but  thy  face 
is  known  to  me,  for  all  that." 

It  was  at  this  time  that  the  door  opened 
again,  and  there  did  enter  a  stripling,  clad 
all  in  dark  maroon  velvet,  wrapped  also 
about  with  a  long  cloak,  and  having  a  vel 
vet  bonnet  pulled  down  over  his  brows  i'  th' 
manner  o'  Lord  Denbeigh's.  One  could  see 
naught  o'  his  visage  for  the  shadow  from 
his  head-gear.  The  revelers  scarce  noted 
his  entrance,  being  far  gone  in  drink,  and 
some  having  departed,  and  others  asleep. 


A  Brother  to  Dragons.  41 

The  lad  came  and  stood  near  the  fire,  and 
I  saw  that  he  looked  at  Lord  Denbeigh 
from  under  his  drooping  bonnet — the  earl 
having  withdrawn  unto  a  table  apart,  with 
a  glass  of  wine  and  some  papers,  and  his 
sword  across  the  table.  Even  as  I  looked 
the  boy  turned,  and  went  over,  and  leaned 
on  the  table  to  finger  the  heavy  sword.  My 
heart  was  afraid  within  me,  for  there  was  a 
dark  light  in  the  eyes  that  flashed  up  at  the 
youth  from  under  Lord  Denbeigh's  stern 
brows.  I  was  nigh  unto  them,  being  but  a 
stride  or  two  apart,  and  so  marked  all  that 
passed  between  them. 

"  By  my  troth,"  quoth  his  lordship,  "  a  val 
iant  crack !" 

"  Meaning  me?"  quoth  the  lad,  smiling. 

"Ay,  meaning  thee,  Sir  Insolence.  Dost 
thou  know  how  to  handle  thine  own  sword, 
that  thou  handiest  a  stranger's  so  freely?" 

"  Even  so.  But  I  meant  not  to  vex  thee. 
In  truth,  I  am  come  to  thee  on  an  errand 
of  life  and  death ;"  and  as  he  spoke,  he  did 


42  A  Brother  to  Dragons. 

doff  his  bonnet  and  toss  it  upon  the  table, 
and  the  firelight  and  candlelight  did  leap 
upon  his  fair  curls,  and  as  I  saw  his  face  it 
was  the  face  of  my  lady.  The  earl  did  start 
half-way  to  his  feet,  and  his  face  was  first 
like  fire  and  then  like  snow. 

"  Margaret !"  he  saith,  back  of  his  teeth, 
as  'twere. 

And  the  lad  smiled,  leaning  still  upon 
the  table. 

"  Nay ;  my  sister  is  called  so,"  he  said, 
"  but  my  name  is  Robert,  and  I  am  the 
Lord  of  Amhurste  and  her  brother.  Hap 
ly  she  hath  mentioned  me  unto  your  lord 
ship." 

The  earl  stared  as  one  who  sees  a  ghost 
(though  I  believe  not  in  them  myself),  and 
he  saith,  "  Whence  comest  thou  ?  All  think 
that  thou  art  dead." 

And  the  boy  said, 

"  Nay,  but  I  would  not  that  any  besides 
thee  knew  of  my  whereabouts.  As  to  thee, 
I  know  more  concerning  thee  even  than 


A  Brother  to  Dragons.  43 

my   sister,  and   it   is  for   her   sake  that    I 
come  to  thee  to-night." 

And  my  lord  saith,  "  For  her  sake  ?" 
"  Even  so.  I  am  come  to  persuade 
thee  that  thou  wilt  not  go  on  the  errand 
thou  wottest  of  two  nights  hence.  There 
are  those  who  do  mean  thee  death.  It 
is  certain  that  thy  life  is  plotted  against. 
Surely  thou  wilt  be  warned  ?"  And  as  I 
looked,  the  color  left  the  lad's  face,  and  he 
grew  white  as  any  woman.  Almost  I  could 
have  sworn  it  was  my  lady's  face.  Line 
for  line,  eyelash  for  eyelash,  look  for  look. 
And  methought  no  mother's  heart  e'er 
yearned  towards  her  new-born  babe  as 
yearned  my  heart  towards  the  youth.  It 
seemed  as  though  I  must  cry  out  to 
him.  To  see  him  thus  after  five  weary 
years ;  to  be  so  near  him,  and  yet  un 
able  to  touch  even  the  latchet  of  his 
shoes,  or  to  hear  his  voice  calling  my 
name.  I  trembled  and  was  blind  with 
longing.  When  at  last  I  did  look  up, 


44  A  Brother  to  Dragons. 

he  said  again,  "  Surely,  thou  wilt  be  ad 
vised?" 

The  earl  leaned  with  his  forehead  set  in 
his  clasped  hands,  and  by-and-by  he  said, 

"  It  is  impossible.     Would  that  I  could  !" 

And  the  lad  said, 

"  Nay,  it  is  not  impossible.  Thou  canst 
save  thine  own  life  with  a  word." 

And  Lord  Denbeigh  answered  him : 

"  My  life  is  not  worth  even  a  word,"  and 
he  did  not  lift  up  his  forehead  from  his 
hands. 

Then  said  my  master,  "  Thy  life  may  be 
worth  less  than  naught  to  thee,  but  to  oth 
ers  its  price  is  above  their  own."  And 
again  he  was  as  pale  as  any  girl. 

And  he  spoke  again  and  said,  "  Thou 
wilt  not  go  ?  Thou  wilt  be  warned  ?" 

And  again  did  the  man  answer,  saying, 
"  Impossible." 

Then  saith  my  master, 

"  Lord  Denbeigh,  if  thou  goest  to  Lon 
don  on  the  morrow,  I  will  follow  thee  there. 


A  Brother  to  Dragons.  45 

Nay,  thou  canst  not  prevent  me.  And 
think  you  my  sister's  heart  will  be  warm 
er  towards  thee  if  her  brother's  blood  be 
spilled  at  thy  behest?" 

And  the  earl  sat  with  his  stern  eyes  on 
the  lad,  and  he  said, 

"  Thy  blood  will  ne'er  be  spent  at  my  be 
hest.  I  do  forbid  thee  to  follow  me." 

And  the  lad  said, 

"  I  am  not  to  be  forbidden."  So  they 
stood  and  looked  at  one  another.  And  all 
at  once  the  boy  put  out  his  hand  ('twas 
my  lady's  very  gesture)  and  took  the  earl's 
sleeve,  and  saith  he  in  a  gentle  voice, 

"  Thou  wert  a  man  after  God's  own  heart 
did  not  thou  let  Satan  consort  with  thee." 

Then  turned  Lord  Denbeigh  with  a 
laugh  that  was  not  merry.  And  he  saith, 

"  As  thou  quotest  Scripture  to  me,  select 
thy  texts  with  greater  care.  Even  to  my 
mind  there  doth  come  one  more  suiting ; 
for  even  as  Job, '  I  am  a  brother  to  dragons, 
and  a  companion  to  owls.' " 


46  A  Brother  to  Dragons. 

Then  saith  the  lad,  still  with  his  hand 
on  the  man's  arm, 

"  Is  it  not  the  more  to  thy  discredit  that 
thou,  who  couldst  be  brother  to  Christ,  do 
make  brothers  of  dragons  ?  Verily,  my 
lord,  I  am  bold  through  my  sister,  for  me- 
thinks  it  is  thus  that  she  would  have  an 
swered  thee." 

And  the  man  turned  away  as  though  to 
hide  his  face. 


III. 

Lord  Robert  spoke  with  Lord  Den- 
beigh  at  some  length,  but  he  was  not  to  be 
turned  from  his  purpose  (which,  methought, 
must  be  a  very  strange  and  grewsome  one, 
judging  by  their  words).  So  finally  they 
went  out  separately,  and  I  got  me  back  to 
Amhurste. 

The  next  morning  I  did  relate  to  my 
lady  all  that  had  passed,  but  mentioning  no 
names,  as  I  saw  that  she  wished  it  not. 


A  Brother  to  Dragons.  47 

And  when  I  was  finished  she  bade  me  go 
straightway  to  London  and  find  out  the 
whereabouts  of  Lord  Denbeigh.  More 
over,  she  told  me  that  she  herself  would  be 
there  shortly  with  Marian,  and  that  they 
two  would  lodge  at  the  house  of  Marian's 
aunt,  one  Mistress  Pepper,  a  linen-draper's 
wife.  At  this  I  wondered  greatly,  the  more 
that  she  should  keep  silent  concerning  her 
brother  than  that  she  should  follow  him  to 
London.  And  all  that  I  could  think  was 
that  Lord  Robert  was  in  some  dire  conspir 
acy,  likewise  the  earl,  and  that  she  feared 
for  the  lives  of  one  or  both.  So  we  all 
go  to  London,  I  earlier  than  my  lady  and 
Marian. 

For  a  day  I  lost  sight  of  Lord  Denbeigh 
(whom  I  had  followed  closely  all  the  wray 
from  Warwickshire),  but  the  next  afternoon 
I  marked  him  as  he  passed  along  a  by-way, 
and  heard  him  speak  with  some  one  of  his 
friends,  naming  a  tavern  where  he  would 
meet  him  at  a  certain  hour  that  night. 


48  A  Brother  to  Dragons. 

So  first  I  found  out  where  the  tavern 
was,  then  straight  to  my  lady  and  acquaint 
ed  her  with  all  that  I  had  discovered. 

She  said  naught  but  to  commend  my 
diligence,  and  she  went  whiter  than  a  just 
washed  sheep  at  shearing  -  time.  Quoth  I 
to  myself, "  Butter,  there  is  more  here  than 
thou  wottest  of;"  which  was  very  true. 

That  night,  a  little  before  the  hour  set 
upon,  I  did  get  me  to  the  tavern,  and 
lurked  quietly  in  the  shadows  where  none 
might  observe ;  and  there,  verily,  was  the 
earl  and  him  with  whom  he  had  spoken  in 
the  afternoon.  He  had  but  said  a  word  or 
so  when  Lord  Robert  entered,  and  went 
and  stood  at  his  elbow,  but  did  not  touch 
him  or  pluck  at  his  cloak.  Albeit,  the  earl 
seemed  to  feel  his  presence,  for  shortly  he 
turned  and  saw  the  lad. 

"  How  !"  quoth  he.     "  Thou  here  ?" 

And  the  boy  said,  "  I  told  thee  I  would 
follow  thee." 

And     Lord    Denbeigh    answered    him, 


A  Brother  to  Dragons.  49 

"  Dost   thou    know    of    what    thou    speak- 
est  ?" 

And  the  lad  said,  "  Verily  I  know,  and 
thou  mayest  trust  me;"  and  with  that  he 
muttered  two  or  three  words  under  his 
breath,  which,  because  of  mine  old  ears,  I 
could  not  catch.  And  the  two  men  started 
and  looked  at  one  another.  Then  the  earl 
did  turn  to  his  friend,  saying  to  him  that 
they  could  indeed  trust  the  lad.  So  they 
three  clasped  hands.  When  that  was  done, 
Lord  Denbeigh  turns  to  my  master,  and 
saith  he,  "  Hast  thou  thy  dirk  with  thee?" 
and  the  lad  answered  that  he  had  both 
sword  and  dagger. 

"  Not  that  there  is  any  danger,"  quoth 
the  earl,  "  but  that  thou  mayest  feel  easy." 

But  the  lad  said,  "  There  is  danger,  as  I 
have  told  thee ;  and  thou  art  putting  thy 
life  in  jeopardy."  At  this  Lord  Denbeigh 
only  laughed;  but  as  they  went  out  into  the 
street  I  marked  that  he  kept  the  lad  close  at 
his  side,  almost  as  a  mother  keeps  a  child. 
4 


50  A  Brother  to  Dragons. 

The  night  was  still  and  cold,  and  the 
sky  full  of  little  white  clouds  that  lapped 
the  one  over  the  other,  like  shells  on  a  sea 
shore.  Now  and  again  the  moon  would 
strike  through,  in  a  long,  bright  ray,  that 
seemed  like  a  keen  blade  or  lance  severing 
the  misty  air.  The  three  went  on  and  on, 
through  many  winding  ways,  and  still  I  fol 
lowed,  for  I  knew  not  into  what  danger  the 
lad  might  be  hastening. 

All  at  once,  in  a  dark  turning,  there 
came  the  clang  of  swords  and  a  rushing 
and  scuffling,  but  no  cry  of  any  kind; 
and  methought  the  silence  was  more  hid 
eous  than  sound.  Stiff  as  were  my  old 
joints  with  disuse,  I  drew  my  sword  and 
lay  about  me  lustily,  striving  to  get  be 
tween  the  villains  and  my  young  master 
(which  is  no  credit  to  me,  as  I  was  so 
wrought  with  rage  that  I  verily  believe  I 
would  have  no  more  felt  the  thrust  of  a 
rapier  than  Marian's  housewife  the  prick 
of  a  needle).  But  there  was  no  method  in 


A  Brother  to  Dragons.  5 1 

aught,  neither  could  anything  be  seen ;  for 
the  moon  had  withdrawn  behind  the  clouds, 
and  wre  seemed  to  be  fighting  underneath 
clear  water,  so  pale  and  ghastly  was  the 
light  shed  about  us  from  the  pale  clouds. 
And  as  I  struck  out  with  my  sword  I  saw 
a  fellow  in  a  mask  close  with  Lord  Den- 
beigh,  lifting  a  dagger  high  in  his  hand, 
while  another  rascal  pinned  the  earl's  hands 
to  his  sides.  And  even  as  I  looked,  the  lad 
leaped  between,  and  the  thin  knife  went 
deep  into  his  breast.  At  the  same  time 
there  was  a  louder  clash  of  swords,  and 
a  thudding  of  men's  bodies  together,  and 
the  masked  wretches  turned  about  and  did 
take  to  their  heels  with  a  good  will.  So 
I  sheathed  my  sword  and  ran  forward. 

Lord  Denbeigh  and  his  friend  were  bend 
ing  over  the  lad,  who  lay  out-stretched  be 
tween  them,  with  his  white  face  turned  up 
to  the  white  sky,  looking  like  the  face  of 
a  dead  man  at  the  bottom  of  a  clear  pool. 
Then  could  I  not  withhold  my  grief,  but 


52  A  Brother  to  Dragons. 

cried  aloud,  "  My  master,  my  master !"  and 
tried  to  feel  with  my  trembling  old  hands 
for  the  wound. 

Then  said  the  earl,  "  Not  here !  I  will 
carry  him  to  a  place  of  safety."  And  he 
lifted  the  boy  in  his  arms,  as  though  he 
had  been  a  hurt  child. 

When  the  other  saw  that,  he  laid  hold 
on  Lord  Denbeigh's  arm,  saying,  "What 
mean  you  ?  are  you  distraught  ?  There  is 
but  scarce  time  by  the  clock." 

And  the  earl  said,  "  Go  you  on.  I  must 
take  this  boy  where  his  wound  can  be 
bound." 

"  Nay,"  said  the  man.  "  I  tell  you,  you 
are  mad !" 

And  Lord  Denbeigh  turned  on  him,  and 
spoke  in  a  harsh  voice : 

"  I  have  said  I  will  not  go.  I  have  done 
with  thee  and  thine.  Go  thy  ways  ere  it 
be  too  late ;"  and  he  passed  on  and  left  the 
man  to  swallow  the  moonshine  with  his 
great  gaping  mouth. 


A  Brother  to  Dragons.  53 

And  he  saith  unto  me, "  Follow  closely." 
So  by-and-by  we  came  to  a  great  gray 
house,  and  Lord  Denbeigh  opened 'the  door 
and  bade  me  enter  with  him. 

We  passed  through  a  vast  hall,  and  up  a 
ponderous  staircase,  and  into  a  room.  A 
fire  was  burning  on  the  hearth,  and  there 
was  a  fantastic  kind  of  lamp  swinging  from 
a  silver  chain  above  the  bed's  foot. 

I  guessed  rightly  that  this  was  his  lord 
ship's  own  apartment.  He  laid  the  lad  on 
the  bed,  and  fell  to .  undoing  his  doublet  of 
black  velvet.  I  did  see  him  set  to  shiver 
ing,  as  'twere,  when  he  noted  the  red  stains 
on  the  shirt  underneath,  and  my  heart 
stood  still  within  me.  Then  he  opened 
the  red  linen,  and  did  put  in  his  hand  gen 
tly  to  feel  if  the  heart  were  yet  beating; 
but  no  sooner  had  he  done  this  than  he 
gave  a  strange  cry,  and  drew  out  his  hand 
dripping  with  blood,  and  stood  staring  and 
trembling.  At  the  same  moment  the  lad 
stirred,  and  opened  his  eyes,  and  began  to 


54  ^  Brother  to  Dragons. 

clutch  feebly  at  his  doublet,  drawing  it  to 
gether.  I  made  naught  of  it  until  Lord 
Denbeigh  did  turn  to  me,  with  the  face  of 
a  dead  man,  and  quoth  he,  "  Stay  here  while 
I  fetch  women,"  and  so  rushed  out  like  one 
in  truth  distraught. 

Then  did  it  all  come  upon  me,  and  I 
knew  that  the  face  upon  which  I  looked 
was  the  face  of  my  lady. 

Ere  another  second  had  passed  I  heard 
the  earl's  voice  without,  and  he  spoke  with 
a  woman : 

"  Do  thou  go  instantly  and  clothe  the 
lady  within  in  some  of  thy  garments ;  and 
have  care  that  thou  say  no  word  to  any  of 
what  hath  happened,  else  will  it  not  be 
well  for  thee." 

When  I  heard  the  tone  in  which  he 
spoke,  methought  in  truth  it  would  not  be 
well  for  her  did  she  not  heed  his  com 
mands. 

Shortly  there  entered  a  woman  most 
marvellous  fair,  with  hair  that  seemed  spun 


A  Brother  to  Dragons.  55 

of  black  taffetas,  and  a  skin  like  a  white 
jasmine.  When  she  saw  the  blood  her  lips 
whitened,  and  she  did  close  them  more 
closely,  but  no  cry  escaped  her.  Where 
at  I  was  much  ashamed,  remembering  the 
hullabaloo  that  I  had  raised. 

I  turned  aside  while  she  disrobed  my 
lady  and  clothed  her  in  clean  linen,  and 
drew  down  the  sheets,  placing  her  between 
them.  But  the  blood  still  flowed  in  spite 
of  all  bandages,  and  the  fair  linen  was  soon 
crimson. 

And  when  all  was  prepared,  the  woman 
went  to  the  door  and  said,  "You  can  enter," 
and  the  earl  came  into  the  chamber  again. 
When,  however,  he  did  see  my  lady  he 
cried  out,  "  GocJ  in  heaven !  she  will  bleed 
to  death !"  and  he  called  the  woman,  and 
showed  her  how  to  stanch  the  wound. 
Then,  when  the  steps  of  the  surgeon  were 
heard  in  the  hall  without,  he  said  unto 
her,  "  Remember.  She  is  thy  sister,  and 
thieves  have  stabbed  her  for  the  jewels 


56  A  Brother  to  Dragons. 

on  her  neck."  And  she  answered  him,  "  I 
will  remember." 

And  all  this  time  methought  I  was  in 
an  evil  dream,  and  that  Marian,  for  some 
spite,  would  not  awaken  me. 

How  it  came  about,  to  this  day  I  recol 
lect  not,  but  ere  two  weeks  had  sped  we 
were  again  at  Amhurste,  and  my  lady  in 
her  own  bower,  under  Marian's  care.  As 
to  that,  Marian  had  been  with  my  lady 
ever  since  the  fatal  night  whereon  she  was 
nigh  done  to  death  by  that  masked  ruffian. 

The  earl  did  go  himself  to  fetch  her 
from  Mistress  Pepper's,  and  after  that  she 
came  neither  of  us  saw  the  sloe -eyed 
woman  any  more. 

None  had  known  of  my  lady's  stay  in 
town,  saving  my  lady  herself,  Lord  Den- 
beigh,  the  black -eyed  woman  (who  never 
uttered  word  more,  good  or  bad,  after  that 
she  had  said,  "  I  will  remember  "),  Marian, 
and  me.  So  besides  us  five  no  one  was 
the  wiser. 


A  Brother  to  Dragons.  57 

It  was  towards  the  last  of  May  that  my 
lady  did  beg  that  we  would  lift  her  out  to 
sit  in  a  long-chair  on  the  east  terrace. 
The  birds  were  at  their  morning  gossip 
ing  in  the  shrubbery,  and  the  air  was  most 
sweet  with  the  breath  of  the  white  lilacs. 
My  lady  looked  like  a  snow-wreath  fallen 
suddenly  among  the  greenery  of  spring, 
but  her  eyes  did  peep  softly,  like  bluebells, 
from  the  snows  of  her  face.  Methought 
she  was  all  white  and  blue,  like  the 
heavens  above  her,  and  her  hair  made  sun 
shine  over  all.  Herne,  the  blood- hound, 
lay  at  her  feet,  and  would  not  be  stirred, 
though  for  sport  my  lady  had  Marian  to 
tempt  him  with  some  comfits. 

While  we  were  all  there,  and  my  lady 
showing  us  how  the  light  shined  through 
her  thin  hands,  and  discoursing  right  mer 
rily,  there  came  a  page  and  handed  her  a 
letter.  Back  fell  she  among  her  pillows, 
and  her  eyelids  dropped  over  her  eyes, 
like  snow-flakes  fallen  on  violets.  Anon 


58  A  Brother  to  Dragons. 

she  opened  the  letter,  and  having  read  it, 
said  unto  Marian,  "  Nurse,  go  bid  him 
hither."  So  Marian  beckoned  me,  and  we 
left  her.  As  we  entered  the  house,  who 
should  pass  us  but  my  Lord  of  Denbeigh, 
and  o'  my  word  he  was  whiter  than  my 
lady,  if  anything,  and  wrapped  as  usual  in 
a  long  cloak.  He  seemed  not  to  see  us, 
and  we  went  on  in  silence. 

Here  transpires  the  only  part  of  this 
narrative  concerning  which  I  am  reluc 
tant  to  write.  I  will  out  with  it,  however, 
and  the  Almighty  knows  that  I  have  not 
done  with  repentance  even  yet.  So  be  it. 
There  was  a  window  overhanging  the  ter 
race  where  my  lady  sat  (the  window  out 
of  which  she  had  leaned  to  speak  to  me 
about  repairing  to  the  Red  Deer).  But 
let  me  not  defer  longer.  I,  Anthony  But 
ter,  of  respectable  parents,  and  counted 
among  my  fellows  and  betters  an  honest 
man,  did  go  to  this  window,  and  did  most 
deliberately  listen  to  the  words  that  passed 


A  Brother  to  Dragons.  59 

between  my  mistress  and  the  Earl  of  Den- 
beigh.  In  fact  (for  I  have  sworn  to  keep 
back  no  jot  or  tittle  of  the  truth),  I  did 
speed  me  so  fast  that  I  was  at  the  window 
ere  his  lordship  reached  my  lady's  side. 

He  came  slowly,  but  his  look  went  be 
fore  him,  and  was  fast  upon  my  lady's  face 
ere  he  himself  was  within  ten  yards  of  her. 
When  at  last  he  was  come  to  her  side, 
he  did  stand  and  look  down  on  her,  but 
uttered  no  word.  And  also  my  lady  did 
look  down,  and  there  was  a  light  like  sun 
set  on  her  cheek. 

Then  suddenly  did  he  drop  upon  his 
knees  beside  her,  and  bowed  down  his 
head  upon  her  knee  and  was  silent.  Then 
my  lady  (God  forever  keep  her!)  did  turn 
her  eyes  quickly,  and  stole  a  look  to  see 
that  no  one  was  nigh  (God  forgive  my 
dastardly  presence!),  and  did  reach  out 
one  pale  hand,  half  fearfully  as  'twere,  and 
did  let  it  rest  upon  the  man's  bowed  head, 
as  a  white  rose-leaf  falls  and  rests  on  the 


60  A  Brother  to  Dragons. 

earth.  And  she  said  but  two  words,  "  My 
friend;"  yet  methought  all  love  was  in 
them.  Whereat  he  raised  his  head  and 
looked  at  her,  and  it  is  so  that  men  look 
upward  when  they  pray.  He  took  her 
hands  with  his  and  held  them  to  his  breast, 
and  he  saith,  "  Dear  saint,  if  thou  forgivest 
me,  wilt  thou  but  kiss  my  brow?"  And 
she  bended  forward  and  kissed  him ;  and 
he  trembled,  calling  her  by  name ;  and  she 
asked  him  what  he  would  with  her.  Then 
kneeling  at  her  side,  he  spoke  to  her,  and 
his  words  were  as  follows : 

"  Thou  hast  heard  of  my  life  and  of  my 
misfortunes,  but    all   hath    not   been    told 
thee.     Grant  me   but  patience  for   a   mo 
ment,  that  I  myself  may  tell  thee  all." 
And  she  saith  unto  him,  "  Say  on." 
So  he  spoke  and  said,  "  There  is  much 
that  I  may  not  tell  thee,  yet  part  I  will  tell 
thee,  for   that   I   must.     Thou   hast  heard 
how  that  my  wife — "     But  he    could  not 
continue,  so    dropped    his    face    into    my 


A  Brother  to  Dragons.  61 

lady's  hands,  and  she  waited  for  him,  say 
ing  softly, 

"  I  will  understand  what  thou  dost  not 
say.  Be  not  troubled,  but  speak  out  thy 
soul  to  me ;"  and  presently  he  told  her 
more.  As  I  do  live,  never  listened  I  to 
sadder  story.  So  piteous  it  was  that  my 
tears  fell  down  like  rain,  and  I  was  sore 
afraid  that  my  sighing  would  discover  my 
whereabouts.  But  the  Almighty  is  mer 
ciful  even  to  sinners,  and  I  remained  un 
noted.  'Twas  the  old  tale  of  love  and 
treachery;  a  false  wife  and  a  friend  who 
was  a  villain. 

The  earl  had  killed  the  man  (but  in  fair 
encounter),  and  his  wife  he  had  brought 
back,  never  to  be  as  husband  to  her  more, 
but  to  preserve  her  from  further  sin.  And 
I  do  maintain  that  'twas  a  noble  act,  and 
I  did  quite  forgive  him  the  blood  of  his 
betrayer.  Methought  my  lady  did  forgive 
him  too,  for  she  did  but  stroke  his  hair 
softly,  saying  ever  and  anon,  "  Poor  soul !" 


62  A  Brother  to  Dragons. 

or  "  God  help  thee !"  And  by-and-by  he 
lifted  his  face,  and  saith,  "  But  the  worst  is 
yet  to  tell  thee." 

And  she  said  again,  "  Say  on." 

And  he  trembled  again,  but  spoke  out 
bravely:  "My  wife  yet  lives.  It  was  she 
who  bound  thy  wounds." 

Now  at  this  I  thought  to  see  my  lady 
swoon ;  but  she  only  smiled,  though  bet 
ter  had  one  seen  her  weep  than  smile  in 
such  wise.  And  she  saith,  "  I  have  known 
that  these  many  days ;"  and  she  leaned  tow 
ards  him,  and  placed  both  hands  upon  his 
head,  saying,  "  Weep  not.  I  hold  thee 
guiltless.  Do  not  weep." 

But  he  sobbed,  clasping  her  knees,  as 
one  whose  heart  is  broken,  saying  now 
and  again  below  his  breath,  "  O  God !  O 
God !" 

If  there  be  this  side  the  stars  a  more 
awful  sight  than  the  sight  of  a  strong  man 
in  tears,  God  grant  I  may  ne'er  behold  it, 
for  surely  I  should  die  of  pity.  Doth  it 


A  Brother  to  Dragons.  63 

please  God  that  I  resemble  Abraham  in 
the  matter  of  age,  if  in  none  other,  ne'er 
will  that  scene  fade  from  my  memory — my 
lady,  so  wan  and  white  and  narrow,  like  a 
tall  lily  over  which  a  rude  wind  hath  swept, 
and  at  her  knee  the  strong  man,  bowed  as 
a  little  lad  that  saith  his  prayers,  clasping 
her  kirtle  and  her  hands,  as  though  one 
sinking  in  deep  waters  were  to  grasp  at  a 
floating  stem  of  flowers  for  support.  And 
after  a  while,  when  the  violence  of  his  grief 
was  spent,  he  saith  unto  her, 

"  I  sail  for  Spain  with  Essex  on  the  mor 
row,  as  thou  knowest;  but  it  doth  remain 
for  me  to  tell  thee  why  I  go.  It  is  for  that 
I  think  the  lad,  thy  brother,  hath  been  a 
prisoner  of  war  these  many  years,  and  I  go 
to  bring  him  to  thee." 

And  she  sat  and  looked  at  him  as 
though  her  heart  had  leaped  from  her 
breast  into  his  body;  but  she  spake  no 
words  save  only,  "  God  keep  thee ;  God  go 
with  thee." 


64  A  Brother  to  Dragons. 

And  suddenly  he  saith  unto  her,  as 
though  the  words  would  forth, 

"  I  loved  thee  from  the  moment  that  I 
saw  thee.  Let  me  but  tell  thee  that." 

She  whispered,  saying,  "  It  was  even  so 
with  me."  And  he  lifted  his  eyes  and 
looked  at  her.  Then  fled  I,  as  though  I 
had  drawn  away  the  veil  from  the  sanctu 
ary,  for  I  thought  that  God  would  surely 
smite  me  for  having  beheld  that  look. 

So  Lord  Denbeigh  sailed  with  the  Earl 
of  Essex  for  the  war  in  Spain,  and  my 
lady's  soul  left  her  body  and  went  with 
him ;  for  surely  'twas  but  her  body  that 
remained  at  Amhurste.  All  day  long 
would  she  sit  silent,  nor  move,  nor  look, 
and  her  hands  the  one  upon  the  other  be 
fore  her,  as  who  should  say,  "  I  am  done 
with  all  things,  whether  of  work  or  of 
play."  So  passed  the  months,  and  ever 
and  anon  some  report  would  reach  the  vil 
lage  of  the  wild  earl's  deeds  in  Spain,  and 


A  Brother  to  Dragons.  65 

of  how  he  would  fight  ten  men  with  one 
arm  wounded  and  the  blood  in  his  eyes, 
and  such  like  tales.  But  no  word  came 
direct,  either  through  letters  or  friends. 
So  passed  the  months,  and  it  was  nigh  to 
August,  and  the  fighting  was  over  for  the 
time,  when  one  day,  with  a  clattering  as 
of  a  horsed  army,  there  comes  dashing  into 
the  court  two  cavaliers  on  horseback,  and 
one  of  them  was  my  Lord  of  Denbeigh. 
Ere  I  could  look  at  the  other  he  had  leap 
ed  to  the  ground,  and  had  me  about  the 
neck  a -kissing  me  as  roundly  as  ever  a 
wench  in  the  market-place.  And  lo  !  when 
I  looked,  it  was  Lord  Robert  in  very  truth. 
He  was  grown  out  of  all  knowledge,  and 
as  brown  as  a  nut,  but  as  big  and  as  bon 
ny  a  lad  as  ever  clapped  hand  to  sword. 

When  I  could  turn  my  eyes  from  him 
upon  the  earl,  I  saw  that  he  was  waxed 
as  pale  as  death,  and  wore  his  arm  in  a 
kerchief,  and  that  there  was  a  great  red 
streak  adown  his  temple,  clean  through  his 
5 


66  A  Brother  to  Dragons. 

right  eyebrow.  And  his  splendid  flanks 
and  chest  were  hollow,  like  those  of  a  good 
steed  that  lacketh  fodder.  But  when  he 
stood  and  leaned  against  his  horse's  neck 
and  smiled  at  us,  methought  he  was  by  far 
the  goodliest  man  that  ever  I  had  looked 
upon.  His  teeth  were  as  white  as  the  foam 
on  his  horse's  bit,  and  there  was  a  deep  nick 
at  the  corner  of  his  mouth,  like  that  at  the 
mouth  of  a  girl. 

Then  must  I  call  Marian,  and  send  her 
to  break  the  news  to  my  lady.  So  in  a 
moment  she  comes  rushing  down  along  the 
stair-way,  like  a  branch  that  is  blown  sud 
denly  from  the  top  o'  a  tall  tree,  and  so 
into  Lord  Robert's  arms ;  and  he  catch 
es  her  to  his  heart,  and  so  stands  hold 
ing  her ;  and  they  make  no  motion  nor 
any  sound  whatever.  Then  turns  the  earl 
away,  and  leaves  them  together.  But  I 
marked  that  his  eyes  were  brimming,  and 
that  there  was  a  quiver  in  his  lip. 

Ere  night  all  is  known  to  us :  how  Lord 


A  Brother  to  Dragons.  67 

Robert  had  been  a  prisoner  in  Spain  all 
these  years,  yet  was  he  treated  with  cour 
tesy  at  the  behest  o'  some  wench.  But  he 
did  not  love  her,  God  be  praised !  And 
'tis  in  my  mind  to  this  day  how  he  might 
have  wed  her,  and  how  the  earl  did  relate 
to  him  his  bitter  experiences  with  a  Span 
ish  wife.  Ay,  that  is  my  firm  opinion.  All 
this  and  more  did  we  hear,  laughing  and 
weeping  by  turns.  But  it  was  not  until 
Lord  Robert  saw  my  lady  alone  that  she 
heard  of  how  the  earl  had  saved  him  at 
the  risk  of  his  own  life,  all  but  bearing  him 
in  his  arms  through  the  enemy,  hewing  his 
way  right  and  left.  And,  moreover,  Lord 
Robert  did  tell  how  that  the  blood  from 
that  cut  on  the  earl's  temple  did  in  truth 
run  down  into  his  eyes  and  blind  him,  but 
how  that  he  dashed  it  back  and  slew  the 
man  who  wounded  him,  and  so  they  es 
caped. 

The  next  morning,  as  I  did  sally  forth 
with  my  cross-bow  to  have  a  shot  at  a 


68  A  Brother  to  Dragons. 

screech-owl  which  for  some  nights  past 
had  disturbed  Marian's  slumbers,  she  in 
her  turn  having  disturbed  mine,  I  did  see 
Lord  Denbeigh  come  out  upon  the  terrace 
and  throw  himself  down  along  the  grass, 
beneath  a  tulip-tree,  with  a  book.  But  he 
read  not,  lying  very  quiet,  with  his  head 
raised  up  upon  one  hand  and  his  elbow 
sunk  in  the  soft  turf.  And  as  the  sun 
light  struck  through  the  leaves  upon  his 
glittering  hair,  and  his  face  like  marble, 
I  could  not  but  pause  to  gaze  on  him,  so 
noble  looked  he.  But  his  eyes  were  far 
away,  and  his  thoughts  with  them. 

It  was  for  this  that  he  did  not  hear  my 
lady  coming  until  she  stood  beside  him, 
and  her  white  gown  brushed  his  cheek. 
But  seeing  her,  he  leaped  to  his  feet,  and 
the  blood  ran  along  his  face,  and  then  seem 
ed  all  to  settle  in  the  long  wound,  leaving 
him  more  pale  than  before.  And  she  said 
to  him, 

"  Nay,  do  not  rise,  for  thou  art  weak  yet;" 


A  Brother  to  Dragons.  69 

but  he  would  not  be  seated,  so  they  stood 
there,  side  by  side  in  the  fair  morning  light. 
And  presently  she  puts  out  her  hand  (no 
one  ere  reached  out  their  hand  as  did  my 
lady),  and  she  just  lays  it  on  his  sleeve,  and 
saith  she,  "  I  am  come  to  thank  you  —  to 
thank  you  with  all  my  heart  and  soul — " 
and  there  a  sob  chokes  her,  and  she  can 
say  no  more. 

Again  the  blood  swept  up  across  his 
brow ;  and  he  said,  "  For  God's  love,  say 
no  more." 

But  she  answered,  saying,  "  Nay,  I  have 
so  much  to  say."  And  she  came  nearer 
to  him  for  a  little  space  ;  and  her  head 
drooped  downward,  like  a  flower  full  of 
rain.  And  she  did  knit  and  unknit  her 
white  fingers  as  they  hung  before  her. 
And  she  saith,  "  There  is  no  guerdon  wor 
thy  such  a  knight,  but  if  an  thou — " 

Then  all  on  a  sudden  did  she  reach  out 
both  arms  towards  him,  and  her  fair  hands, 
palms  upward,  and  the  scarlet  leaped  to  her 


7<D  A  Brother  to  Dragons. 

very  brow ;  but  she  lifted  her  little  head 
proudly,  albeit  her  eyes  were  dropped  down 
ward,  and  she  said  unto  him,  "  Take  me,  for 
I  am  thine." 

And  he  trembled  from  head  to  foot,  and 
parting  his  lips  as  though  to  speak,  reached 
out  his  arms  and  clasped  her. 

And  when  I  realized  what  I  had  done,  I 
did  drop  my  cross-bow  and  took  to  my 
heels,  like  one  followed  by  goblins. 

Now,  even  as  I  hope  to  be  saved,  I  but 
just  come  to  recognize  that  this  was  my 
second  eavesdropping.  So  be  it.  I  have 
vowed,  and  must  keep  my  vow. 

It  was  all  made  clear  to  me  that  night, 
when  Marian  did  relate  to  me  how  that  the 
Spanish  woman  had  slain  herself  by  swal 
lowing  flame.  At  which  (though  mightily 
pleased,  God  forgive  me,  on  account  of  my 
lady  and  the  earl)  I  was  more  than  ever 
thankful  that  Lord  Robert  had  escaped 
alive  and  unwed  out  o'  th'  clutches  o'  th' 
Spanish  wench.  And  here  it  occurreth  to 


A  Brother  to  Dragons.  71 

me  that  I  have  not  yet  told  that  Marian 
did  know  from  the  first  of  my  lady's  going 
up  to  town  dressed  as  her  brother.  This 
I  record  more  on  account  of  its  being  a 
marvellous  instance  of  a  woman's  keeping 
her  tongue  than  to  shame  Marian,  who 
hath  often  read  how  that  wives  should 
submit  themselves  unto  their  husbands  as 
unto  the  Lord.  Howbeit,  all  ended  so  hap 
pily  that  I  had  not  the  heart  to  scold  her. 

With  the  first  frosts  of  October  my  lady 
and  the  earl  were  wed.  Methought  the 
queen  herself  could  not  have  had  a  finer 
wedding,  and  certes  no  woman  could  have 
had  a  nobler  spouse.  He  was  yet  pale 
from  his  wounds,  but  most  soldierly  of 
bearing  and  proud  of  carriage.  He  was 
clad  all  in  white,  like  my  lady.  A  more 
beauteous  apparel  I  have  never  seen. 

His  doublet  was  of  cloth  of  silver,  with 
a  close  jerkin  of  white  satin  embroidered 
in  silver  and  little  pearls.  His  girdle  and 
the  scabbard  of  his  sword  were  of  cloth  of 


72  A  Brother  to  Dragons. 

silver,  with  golden  buckles.  His  poniard 
and  sword  were  hilted  and  mounted  in 
gold,  together  with  many  blazing  orders 
and  richer  devices  that  I  know  not  how 
to  enumerate. 

My  lady's  gown  was  all  of  white  satin, 
sewn  down  the  front  with  little  pearls,  like 
those  on  my  lord's  jerkin,  and  her  ruff  was 
of  soft  lace,  not  stiff,  as  was  the  fashion, 
but  falling  about  her  bosom  most  modestly 
and  becomingly.  Lord  Robert,  methinks, 
was  eke  as  goodly,  after  his  way,  as  either 
his  sister  or  Lord  Denbeigh,  being  close 
clad  from  head  to  foot  in  crimson  sarcenet, 
slashed  all  with  cloth  of  gold.  My  lady  had 
given  me  some  suiting  clothes  for  the  occa 
sion  ;  and  as  for  Marian,  methought  in  her 
new  gown  of  sea  •  green  taffeta,  with  her 
new  ruff  and  head-gear,  that  she  looked  as 
fair  a  matron  as  any  mother  of  fine  lads  in 
all  England. 


A  Brother  to  Dragons.  73 


IV. 

Seven  months  they  had  been  wed,  and  it 
was  May  again.  Methought  such  love  had 
never  been  on  earth  since  Eden.  'Twas 
gladness  but  to  see  them.  And  all,  more- 
o'er,  was  so  well  with  Lord  Robert,  who, 
folks  did  say,  was  in  mighty  great  favor  at 
court,  and  like  to  become  a  shining  light  in 
the  land. 

'Twas  on  a  May  morning.  The  trees 
were  a-lilt  with  birds,  and  the  sound  of 
waters  set  all  the  winds  a-singing.  All  at 
once  comes  my  lord,  and  sets  his  hand  on 
my  shoulder.  Then  know  I  that  some 
thing  dire  hath  happened.  And  he  saith, 
"  Friend,  where  is  thy  mistress  ?" 

And  I  tell  him  that  she  is  out  among 
her  roses. 

Then  saith  he  all  at  once, "  The  Queen 
hath  sent  for  me — I  must  to  war." 


74  ^  Brother  to  Dragons. 

And  I  could  do  naught  but  stare  at  him. 
And  he  said  to  me :  "  In  an  hour  I  must 
be  gone.  Say  naught  to  thy  mistress.  I 
will  go  don  a  suiting  dress,  and  do  thou 
bring  me  my  sword  and  give  it  into  my 
hand." 

And  he  went,  returning  shortly,  and  I 
gave  him  the  sword.  It  was  then  that  we 
heard  the  voice  of  my  lady  without,  and 
she  sang  a  song  of  the  spring-tide.  The 
words  I  have  ne'er  forgot,  though  I  did 
but  hear  them  once: 

"  For  O  !     For  O  ! 

The  cowslips  blow, 

And  the  ground's  all  gold  below  me  ; 
The  speedwell's  eye 
Peers  up  so  bli' 

I  swear  it  seems  to  know  me  ! 

"  The  lady-smocks 
In  silver  frocks 

Do  flout  the  sonsy  clover ; 
The  humble  bee 
Consorts  wi'  me 

And  hails  me  for  a  rover. 


A  Brother  to  Dragons.  75 

"  Then  trip,  then  trip, 
And  if  ye  slip 

Your  lad  will  lend  a  hand  O ; 
The  lass  in  green 
With  black,  black  een, 

Is  the  fairest  in  the  land  O." 

And  as  the  earl  listened  methought  he 
would  have  fallen,  grasping  my  shoul 
der,  old  man  as  I  was,  and  bending  down 
his  head  upon  it.  And  I  did  stay  him 
with  my  arm,  as  though  he  had  been 
my  very  son  —  for  old  age  is  father  to  all 
men. 

So  my  lady  comes  in,  with  her  gold  hair 
blowing,  and  her  white  kirtle  full  of  red 
roses,  and  seeing  her  lord  goes  to  meet 
him.  But  when  she  noted  the  soldierly 
fashioning  of  his  dress,  and  the  sword  girt 
at  his  thigh,  she  opened  her  lips  as  though 
to  cry  out,  but  no  sound  escaped  them. 
And  her  kirtle  slipped  from  her  hold,  and^ 
the  red  roses  lay  between  them  like  a  pool 
of  blood. 


76  A  Brother  to  Dragons. 

Then  she  saith  unto  him,  "Tell  me. 
Quick,  quick!" 

And  he  lifts  her  to  him,  and  saith, 
"  Sweetheart,  my  Queen  hath  bidden  me 
come  fight  for  her  and  for  my  country." 

And  she  saith  naught,  only  clasps  him. 

But  by-and-by  she  cries  out,  saying,  "  Go 
not!  Go  not!  Else  wilt  thou  kill  me." 
And  so  speaking,  falls  like  one  dead  at 
her  lord's  feet. 

Then  I,  running  like  one  distraught  to 
fetch  Marian,  do  tilt  pell-mell  into  Lord 
Robert,  who  hath  come  down  to  Amhurste 
for  a  week  or  so  of  rest. 

"  Heydey !"  quoth  he.  "  What  Jack-a-lent 
hath  frighted  thee  ?"  And  I  told  him  all. 
Never  a  word  said  he,  but  went  straight 
way  and  got  upon  his  horse,  and  clapped 
spurs  to  its  sides,  and  so  out  of  sight. 

And  all  that  night  my  lady  lay  nigh  to 
death,  so  that  there  was  ne'er  a  thought  in 
the  breast  of  any  for  another  soul.  There 
fore  Lord  Robert  was  not  missed. 


A  Brother  to  Dragons.  77 

Ere  two  days  were  past  came  a  man  with 
despatches,  and  we  found  out  how  that  Lord 
Robert  had  substituted  himself  for  the  earl 
(having  acquainted  the  Queen  with  the  cir 
cumstances — and  he  being,  moreover,  so 
great  a  favorite),  and  how  the  Queen  had 
granted  Lord  Denbeigh  leave  to  remain  in 
England  a  while  longer. 

And  so  his  lordship  was  with  his  lady 
when  their  child  was  born,  but  Lord  Rob 
ert  was  killed  in  the  wars. 

They  grieved  sore  for  him,  and  for  many 
weeks  would  not  be  comforted.  And  even 
it  was  said  that  the  Queen  mourned  for 
him,  and  did  banish  all  festivities  from 
court  for  the  space  of  several  days. 

But  like  as  the  stars  do  pale  in  the  morn 
ing  sky,  so  pales  the  orb  of  sorrow  before 
the  rays  of  the  great  sun,  happiness. 

And  though  he  was  ne'er  forgotten,  and 
though  the  tears  would  spring  to  my  lady's 
eyes  heard  she  but  his  name  mentioned, 
yet  she  did  smile  again  and  was  happy. 


78  A  Brother  to  Dragons. 

It  chanced  but  this  morning  that  Marian 
and  I,  leaning  from  the  window  that  over 
looks  the  east  terrace,  did  see  a  most  win 
some  sight. 

'Twas  a  fair  morning,  and  May  again, 
and  on  such  mornings  as  these  my  lady 
would  go  forth  on  the  east  terrace  with  the 
child.  And  there  grow  all  such  sweet  flow 
ers  as  my  lady  loves — the  red  mule-pinks, 
and  dame's-violets,  such  as  are  sweet  o'  even 
ings,  but  marvellous  fair  to  look  upon  both 
by  sunlight  and  moonlight.  And  the  south 
wall  was  all  thick  with  the  yellow  violets,  so 
that  my  lady's  head  looked  like  the  head 
o'  a  saint  against  a  golden  platter.  And 
there  did  my  lady  sit,  on  a  quaintly 
wrought  bench,  with  the  little  lord. 

And  this  morning,  when  she  was  seated, 
and  the  babe  curled  against  her  bosom,  and 
Marian  and  myself  thinking  o'  the  pictures 
o'  the  Virgin  Mary  and  the  blessed  Jesus 
(saving  that  my  lady's  kirtle  was  all  of 
white  and  gold,  like  the  lilies,  knotted  in 


A  Brother  to  Dragons.  79 

her  waistband),  she  looked  up  on  a  sudden, 
and  lo !  there  was  the  master  coming  along 
over  the  grass  towards  her.  When  he  saw 
who  it  was  that  sat  there,  he  doffed  his 
plumed  hat  like  as  though  it  had  been  the 
Virgin  Mary  for  very  truth,  and  he  paused 
a  minute,  but  then  came  on. 

When  my  lady  saw  him  who  he  was, 
there  came  a  fair  red  o'er  all  the  white  o' 
her  throat  and  face ;  ay,  and  withal  over 
her  very  bosom.  And  she  put  up  one 
white  hand,  with  her  wedding-ring  on't, 
and  made  as  though  she  would  shield  the 
sun  from  the  babe's  eyes. 

And  all  this  time  my  lord  came  slowly 
over  the  grass,  as  though  the  sweet  sight 
did  pleasure  him  both  far  and  near.  And 
when  he  was  approached,  he  stood,  still 
with  his  hat  in  his  hand,  and  looked  down 
at  the  babe  and  its  mother,  and  \vas  silent. 

Then  the  child,  feeling  mayhap  that  its 
father  was  near,  twisted  over  towards  him, 
reaching  out  its  waxen  arm,  and  smiled 


8o  A  Brother  to  Dragons. 

right  knowingly;  whereat  my  lord  did  pluck 
the  great  plume  out  o'  his  hat  and  lay  it 
across  my  lady's  bosom ;  moreover,  he  knelt 
and  put  an  hand  on  the  babe,  but  his  arm 
he  held  about  his  wife. 

Then  did  she  draw  both  my  lord  and  the 
child  to  her,  and  pressed  them  against  her, 
but  her  face  she  lifted  Godwards. 

And  something  spoke  within  our  hearts 
that  we  turned  and  left  the  window. 


THE  FARRIER  LASS  0'  PIPING 
PEBWORTH. 


HUMFREY  LEMON,  meeting  Bered  Tur 
nip,  before  the  "  Red  Deer,"  doth  speak 
as  follows : 

Whom  have  we  here?  Well,  well,  by 
my  troth !  'tis  none  other  than  Bered  Tur 
nip,  the  farrier,  as  I  do  live !  Come  for 
an  alms-drink,  comrade.  Would  I  had  as 
many  gold -pieces  as  we  have  burnt  al- 
nights  i'  this  very  tavern !  And  is  it  thus 
we  meet  after  all  these  years?  It  doth 
seem  but  yesterday  that  we  supped  under 
this  very  roof  as  juvenals.  Dost  thou 
mind  thee  o'  the  night  that  we  gave  old 
Gammer  Lick-the-Dish  a  bath  in  his  own 
6 


82  The  Farrier  Lass  o  Piping  Pebworth. 

sack,  for  that  he  served  us  in  a  foul  jerkin? 
By'r  lay'kin,  those  were  days !  Well,  well, 
to  meet  thee  thus !  Though,  believe  it  or 
not,  as  thou  wilt,  I  had  such  a  pricking  i' 
my  thumbs  but  an  hour  gone  that  I  was  of 
a  mind  to  roar  you  like  any  babe  with  a 
pin  in  his  swaddling-bands.  Thou  wast 
my  beau-peer  i'  those  times ;  and  we  are 
kin  by  profession,  moreover.  How  be  Mis 
tress  Turnip  and  thy  eight  lads?  Ha! 
ha!  Dost  remember  how  old  Anthony 
Butter — him  who  was  gardener  at  Am- 
hurste  Castle,  ye  mind — dost  thou  remem 
ber  in  what  spite  he  held  thee  because  o' 
those  eight  little  salads  o'  thine  ?  A  al 
ways  said  a  married  with  an  eye  to  a's 
posterity;  and  o'  my  word  a's  been  cock 
eyed  e'er  since,  for's  posterity  has  e'er  kept 
him  on  the  lookout:  never  chick  or  child 
hath  Mistress  Butter  given  him. 

Quoth  he  to  me  one  day,  a -setting  of 
's  chin  in  's  thumb  and  forefinger  (thou 
mind'st  his  solemn  ways) — quoth  he  to  me, 


The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth.  83 

"  Lemon,"  quoth  he,  "  would  I  knew  why 
the  Lord  doth  seem  to  look  with  a  more 
bounteous  favor  on  such  as  are  farriers, 
than  on  such  as  be  followers  of  other 
trades ;  for  methinks,  what  with  thee,  and 
Turnip,  and  Job  Long -pate,  who  bides  in 
Dancing  Marston,  England  will  owe  the 
chief  o'  her  future  population  to  black 
smiths."  I  quoth,  to  humor  him,  quoth  I, 
"  Belike,  Master  Butter,"  quoth  I,  "  the  Al 
mighty  hath  gotten  wisdom  by  experience, 
and  doth  purpose  to  put  no  further  trust 
in  gardeners."  Whereat  he  waxed  so 
wrathful,  that  for  the  sake  o'  my  breeches 
I  took  to  my  heels.  But,  Lord !  it  doth 
seem  as  though  a  had  a  spite  against  th' 
very  children  o'  others.  Thou  mindest 
my  Keren  ?  By'r  lay'kin,  'twill  not  stick  i 
my  old  pate  how  that  thou  hast  not  been 
in  these  parts  since  my  Keren  could  V 
walked  under  a  blackberry-bramble  without 
so  much  as  tousling  her  tresses.  Well,  a 
grew  up  a  likely  lass,  I  can  tell  thee! 


84  The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth. 

Sure  thou  mindest  why  we — my  wife  and 
I — did  come  to  call  her  Keren?  Go  to! 
Thou  dost!  Tis  the  jest  o'  th'  place  to 
this  day.  Well,  then,  if  thou  dost  not,  I'll 
be  at  the  pains  o'  telling  thee ;  for  me- 
thinks  'twas  a  wise  thought.  We  did 
christen  her  Keren-Happuch  ;  "  for,"  quoth 
my  wife,  "when  that  we  be  pleased  with 
her,  we  can  call  her  Keren — which  is  as 
sweet-sounding  a  name  as  a  maid  can  have; 
and,  on  the  other  hand,  when  we  be  wroth 
with  her,  we  can  call  her  Happuch — which 
sure  would  be  a  rough  name  even  for  thy 
trotting  mare  Bellibone."  Ha!  ha!  And 
thereby,  comrade,  hangs  another  tale,  as 
Master  Shakespeare  was  wont  to  say.  My 
wife,  thou  must  know,  hath  e'er  been  a 
loyal  admirer  o'  our  gracious  Queen,  and 
it  comes  to  her  ears  one  day  as  how  her 
Majesty  did  ride  a-horseback  most  excellent 
well.  Naught  would  do  but  that  I  must 
let  Mistress  Lemon  mount  for  a  ride  upon 
my  gray  mare  Bellibone.  Now  Bellibone, 


The  Farrier  Lass  o  Piping  Pebworth.  85 

though  as  willing  a  nag  as  ever  ambled, 
did  think  far  more  o'  getting  to  her  jour 
ney's  end  than  o'  the  manner  in  which  she 
did  accomplish  the  journey ;  and,  I  will  say, 
a  trotted  as  though  a  was  for  breaking 
th'  stones  on  th'  Queen's  highway,  instead 
o'  getting  o'er  'em.  Well,  I  did  what  I 
could  to  dissuade  Mistress  Lemon  from 
her  enterprise,  but  a  was  as  firm  as  one  o' 
my  surest  driven  nails  in  a  new  shoe.  So 
a  let  her  go.  Couldst  thou  but  'a'  seen  her 
when  she  was  returned  an  hour  after ! 
Ha !  ha !  ha !  a  was  for  breaking  my  head 
with  my  own  pincers. 

"  Dost  thou  call  that  devil's-riding-horse 
1  Bellibone  ?'  "  quoth  she,  with  what  breath 
there  was  left  to  her.  "  By  my  troth,  I  think 
she  hath  not  another  bone  in  her  whole 
body  besides  her  backbone !" 

But  I  spake  o'  Keren.  Thou  knowest 
that  even  as  a  lass  she  had  a  sharp  tongue 
o'  her  own — as  keen  as  a  holly  leaf,  by  my 
troth.  So  be  it.  'Twas  one  day  nigh  unto 


86  The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth. 

Martlemas  that  old  Butter  did  undertake  to 
chide  her  for  conducting  herself  after  the 
manner  o'  a  lad  rather  than  o'  a  lass. 

Quoth  she  to  him,  a-setting  of  her  little 
black  pate  to  one  side,  and  of  her  little 
brown  arms  akimbo — quoth  she,  "  Since  the 
Lord  hath  not  made  me  a  lad,"  quoth  she, 
"  I  cannot  more  than  act  like  one ;  and  so 
I  will  do !" 

Quoth  he,  "  Thou  hast  a  sour  name, 
a  bitter  tongue,  and  a  peppery  temper, 
jade ;  and  the  two  last  be  not  gifts  o'  the 
Lord." 

"  And  thou,"  quoth  she,  "  hast  a  mustard 
conceit,  for  right  sure  am  I  that  'tis  big 
enough  for  a  goose  to  roost  in !  And 
whether  th'  Lord  hath  given  it  to  thee  or 
not,  I'm  glad  I  have  't  not,"  quoth  she; 
for  she  had  heard  it  read,  in  some  meet 
ing  whither  her  mother  would  sometimes 
take  her,  of  how  the  fowls  o'  the  air  did 
lodge  i'  th'  branches  o'  the  mustard-plant. 
Well,  by'r  lay'kin,  th'  village  hath  ne'er  for- 


The  Farrier  Lass  o  Piping  Pebworth.  87 

got  that  to  this  day,  and  that  I'll  prove 
thee  when  we  be  through  drinking ! 

What  hath  become  o'  her  ?  Go  to ! 
Sure  thou  knowest  that?  Well,  well  'tis  a 
tale  to  make  a  play  of.  I've  often  thought, 
had  Master  Shakespeare  known  of  't,  how 
he  would  'a'  fashioned  it  into  a  jolly  play. 
Tell  thee  of  't  ?  What !  art  in  earnest  ? 
By  the  mass,  then,  thou  must  drink  again. 
Come,  fill  up,  fill  up.  What  there !  a  cup 
o'  the  amber  drink  for  Master  Turnip ! 

Let  me  see :  how  old  was  th'  lass  when 
thou  didst  set  forth  on  thy  jauntings? 
Some  two  years,  methinks.  And  she  was 
fourteen  on  the  first  day  o'  March  i'  that 
year  wherein  she  did  sauce  old  Butter  with 
some  o'  's  own  wit  for  gibing  at  her  for  a 
tomboy.  O'  my  word,  man,  th'  old  fellow 
was  not  far  i'  th'  wrong.  If  e'er  th'  angel 
o'  life  did  make  an  error  i'  th'  distributing 
o'  souls,  'twas  on  the  night  Keren  was 
brought  into  this  world.  And  a  say  that 
with  a  cause,  moreover;  for  th'  same 


88  The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth. 

night,  mark  you,  one  Mistress  Mouldy, 
over  the  way,  was  brought  to  bed  o'  a 
man-child.  That's  neither  here  nor  there. 
Herein  doth  lie  the  singularity.  That 
child  did  grow  up  to  knit  stockings  i'  th' 
door-way  like  any  wench ;  Peter  Mouldy 's 
th'  name,  and  a  plays  a  part  i'  th'  story  I'm 
about  to  relate  to  thee.  Ne'er  in  all  thy 
travels  hast  thou  e'er  seen  so  crack-brain  a 
wench  as  my  Keren !  Lord !  it  set  thy 
head  to  swimming  did  she  but  enter  a 
room.  She  had  no  more  stability  o'  mo 
tion  than  a  merry-go-round ;  and  she  was 
that  brown,  a  bun  looked  pale  i'  th'  compar 
ison,  when  she  did  lift  it  to  her  mouth  to 
eat  it.  A  strapping  jade,  and  strong  as 
any  lad  o'  her  age  i'  th'  village.  In  her 
seeming  she  took  neither  after  her  mother 
nor  after  me,  though  she  was  a  comely 
wench  as  wenches  go — hair  as  black  as  a 
January  night  in  stormy  weather,  and  eyes 
as  big  and  as  bright  and  as  yellow  (o'  my 
word)  —  as  yellow  as  two  crown  pieces! 


The  Farrier  Lass  o  Piping  Pebujorth.  89 

They  looked  out  from  under  her  thick  eye 
brows  like  sunlight  peeping  from  a  heavy 
cloud.  And  she  was  made  like  a  lad  for 
suppleness.  Taller  than  her  mother  by 
head  and  shoulders,  and  within  a  full  inch 
o'  my  forelock.  By'r  lay 'kin !  how  she 
could  sing  too !  She  would  troll  thee  a 
ditty  i'  th'  voice  o'  a  six-foot  stripling,  but 
for  a'  that,  as  sweet  as  bells  far  away  on  a 
still  noon  in  summer-tide,  And  she  was 
always  getting  hold  o'  saucy  songs,  and  put 
ting  them  to  tunes  o'  her  own  invention. 
A  could  'a'  had  aye  the  lads  i'  th'  village, 
had  a  wanted  'em ;  but,  Lord  !  a  had  one 
sweetheart  one  day,  and  another  the  next, 
till  they  were  one  and  all  for  murdering 
or  marrying  her.  But  she  would  none  o' 
'em.  'Twas  one  summer's  day,  her  mother 
being  gone  to  th'  village,  that  she  did  set 
about  to  brew  some  sack ;  and  as  she  did 
stand  by  the  big  pot  while  it  cooled,  to  see 
that  naught  fell  into  't,  up  comes  Master 
Peter  Mouldy  with  his  knitting,  and  grins 


90  The  Farrier  Lass  o  Piping  Pebworth. 

at  her  across  the  caldron,  after  the  fashion 
o'  a  horse  eating  briers.  She  not  noticing 
him,  quoth  he, 

"  Good-morrow,  sweet  Mistress  Lemon." 

Saith  she,  not  looking  at  him, 

"  Thou  liest." 

"  How,  mistress  ?"  saith  he,  with  his 
mouth  as  wide  as  a  church  door  on  a 
Sunday. 

"  Why,  for  calling  a  lemon  sweet,"  saith 
she,  "  when  all  the  world  doth  know  that  it 


is  sour." 


Thereat  he  did  fall  a-grinning  again. 

"  Sweet,  sweet  mistress  Keren,"  quoth  he, 
"  'tis  thee  I  praise,  and  not  thy  name.  And 
I  will  wager  that  thou  art  not  sour,  Mis 
tress  Keren." 

"  How  wilt  thou  find  out,  either  to  lose 
or  to  win  thy  wager  ?"  quoth  she. 

"  Thus !"  quoth  he.  And,  o'  my  word, 
the  homespun  got  his  arms  about  her,  knit 
ting  and  all  (though  I  would  'a'  laid  two 
cows  and  a  lamb  they  couldn't  'a'  reached 


The  Farrier  Lass  o  Piping  Pebworth.  91 

about  her  pretty  waist),  and  smacked  her 
right  heartily  full  on  her  red  mouth. 

Well,  comrade,  that  something  would 
happen  I  knew  full  well ;  but  when  she  did 
up  with  him  by  the  seat  o'  his  breeches 
and  the  collar  o'  his  jerkin,  and  did  souse 
him  head  first  into  the  pot  o'  sack,  me- 
thought  I  would  'a'  burst  in  sunder,  like 
Judas  Iscariot  (meaning  no  blasphemy). 

And  when  he  was  climbed  out,  splutter 
ing  and  white  with  terror,  she  did  fish  out 
his  hat  with  his  big  knitting-needles,  and 
did  set  it  upon  his  head,  and  did  thrust 
him  outside,  and  did  shut  the  door  in  's 
face.  But  never  a  word  said  she  from  first 
to  last.  Then  methought  in  verity  I  would 
'a'  split  in  twain  from  top  to  toe,  like  the 
veil  o'  the  temple  (meaning  no  blasphemy, 
as  I  will  swear  on  th'  book).  And  when 
she  caught  sight  o'  me  she  too  fell  a-laugh- 
ing,  and  quoth  she  to  me,  "  I  have  spoiled 
a  good  brew  for  thee,  father,  but  'twas 
worth  the  paying  for."  And  therewith  she 


92  The  Farrier  Lass  o1  Piping  Pebworth. 

did  out  with  the  worth  o'  the  sack  from 
her  purse,  which  she  always  carried  in  her 
bosom,  after  a  fashion  inherited  from  her 
mother,  and  counted  down  the  silver  into 
my  hand.  I  took  it,  for  I  ever  strove  to 
bring  up  my  children  in  the  ways  o'  hon 
esty;  and  certes  she  had  spoiled  the  con 
tents  o'  the  caldron  by  turning  it  into  a 
bath-tub  for  Master  Mouldy.  Well,  'twas 
th1  talk  o'  th'  village  for  full  a  month; 
scarce  did  young  Mouldy  dare  put  out  his 
nose  from  behind  the  lattice  o'  his  mother's 
cottage.  But  th'  other  lads  seemed  to  fall 
more  daft  about  the  lass  than  aye  afore. 

Now,  my  wife's  sister  had  a  daughter, 
called  Ruth,  and  in  all  things  was  she  most 
different  from  my  Keren.  A'd  a  head  as 
yellow  as  Keren's  eyes,  and  eyes  as  brown 
as  Keren's  skin,  and  a  skin  as  white  as 
Keren's  teeth ;  and  a  was  slim  and  tender- 
looking,  like  a  primrose  that  hath  but  just 
ventured  out  on  a  day  in  early  spring. 
Moreover,  she  was  a  timid,  sweet-voiced 


The  Farrier  Lass  o  Piping  Pebworth.  93 

creature — the  kind  o'  wench  that  makes 
even  a  weak  man  feel  strong,  ye  mind, 
comrade.  But  a  was  ne'er  o'er-civil  to  my 
lass.  Neither  did  Keren  waste  much  love 
upon  her ;  she  said  from  th'  very  start  that 
th'  hussy  had  a  sly  tongue ;  "  and  a  sly 
tongue,"  saith  she,  "  doth  ever  mate  with  a 
false  heart,"  saith  she ;  "  and  from  such  a 
marriage  what  offspring  can  ye  look  for, 
unless  it  be  for  mischief  ?"  saith  she. 

They  had  not  much  to  do  the  one  with 
the  other,  however,  until  the  coming  of 
Robert  Racket  to  Pebworth.  And  a  was 
as  fine  a  lad  as  e'er  caused  a  lass  to  don 
her  Sunday  kirtle  on  a  Saturday.  'Twas 
said  as  how  he  had  met  \vith  Ruth  while 
that  she  was  on  a  visit  to  her  aunt  in 
Dancing  Marston,  and  that  he  had  come 
to  Pebworth  to  wed  with  her.  All  would 
'a'  been  well  had  not  it  come  to  Keren's 
ears  how  that  Mistress  Ruth  said  that  she 
would  bring  Master  Racket  to  see  her 
cousin  Keren,  but  that  she  did  not  want 


94  The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth. 

her  sweetheart  to  be  out  with  her  family 
ere  that  he  had  married  into  it;  meaning 
neither  more  nor  less  than  that  my  Keren 
was  a  shame  unto  her  name  by  reason  o' 
her  romping  ways. 

"  The  cat !"  quoth  Keren,  waxing  as  red 
as  any  damask  rose  for  very  anger ;  "  the 
little,  spiteful  cat!  But  I'll  cut  her  claws 
for  her !  Do  thou  bide  and  mark  me,  fa 
ther.  Ay,  I'll  serve  her  and  her  Robert  in 
such  wise  they'll  go  to  their  graves  remem 
bering." 

Now,  'twas  the  very  next  day  that  the 
lads  and  lasses  o'  the  village  did  crown  her 
harvest-queen,  and  all  Bidford  was  out  to 
see  't.  And  very  queen  she  looked,  too, 
borne  aloft  in  a  throne  made  all  o'  dark  red 
roses,  and  her  dark  curls  crowned  with  a 
wreath  o'  corn  and  o'  poppies,  that  shined 
in  the  sunlight  like  to  gold  strewn  all  with 
rubies.  She  wore  a  new  kirtle  of  white 
wool,  and  her  brown  throat  rose  from  her 
white  kerchief  like  as  a  frozen  wood-dove's 


The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth.  95 

dusky  breast  doth  peep  from  new-fallen 
snow. 

And  Mistress  Ruth  walked  beside  her 
as  one  o'  her  maids  o'  honor.  And  they 
twain  did  remind  me  of  naught  so  much 
as  of  a  lamb  trotting  by  the  side  of  a  forest 
doe — the  one  so  meek  and  white,  and  the 
other  so  free  and  brown,  \vith  great  eyes 
ever  moving,  and  head  aloft. 

There,  moreover,  walked  Master  Hacket. 
He  was  as  brown  as  my  Keren,  and  nearly 
half  as  tall  again;  and  he  had  eyes  like 
pools  o'  water  under  a  night  heaven, 
wherein  two  stars  have  drowned  them 
selves,  as  'twere,  and  brows  as  black  and 
straight  as  a  sweep  o'  cloud  across  an  even 
ing  sky.  Ruth  walked  at  his  side,  all  glit 
tering  with  her  unbound  hair,  like  to  a 
sunbeam  that  follows  a  dark  stream.  And 
I  saw  that  they  talked  together,  and  nod 
ded  as  though  agreeing  on  something,  and 
looked  together  at  my  lass  where  she  sat 
on  her  flower-throne  with  her  poppy-crown, 


96  The  Farrier  Lass  o  Piping  Pebworth. 

and  her  lips  like  poppies.  And  all  at  once 
she  turned  and  saw  them,  and  her  lips 
parted  over  her  white  teeth  in  a  sudden 
smile,  as  when  a  kirtle  o'  red  silk  doth  tear 
over  a  white  petticoat  beneath;  and  she 
turned  away;  but  I  could  see  that  she 
laughed  in  her  brown  throat,  as  a  bird 
sings  sometimes  for  its  own  hearkening 
ere  trolling  for  the  whole  forest.  So  I  said 
to  myself,  "  'Ware,  'ware,  my  little  spring 
lamb;  there  is  trouble  ahead  for  thee. 
Thou  wilt  not  win  thy  Boaz  so  easily  as 
thou  dost  think,  my  little  Ruth." 

Now,  when  they  were  come  to  the 
fields,  and  the  maids  seated  under  some 
elm-trees,  and  all  the  lads  fallen  to  't  with 
their  sickles,  while  that  they  were  reaping 
the  glistening  corn  my  Keren  doth  leap 
to  her  feet,  and  she  calls  out, 

"  I  know  not  the  name  o'  yonder  man, 
but  I  do  know  that  I  can  give  him  a  les 
son  in  reaping !" 

So  forthwith  up  jumps  she,  and,  striding 


The  Farrier  Lass  o  Piping  Pebworth.  97 

out  into  the  sunlit  meadow,  jerks  young 
Racket's  sickle  from  his  hand,  and,  hav 
ing  turned  back  the  sleeves  o'  her  smock, 
stands  well  upon  her  shapely  legs  and  be 
gins  to  reap. 

Now,  methought  I  had  ne'er  in  all  my 
life  seen  anything  more  pleasing  to  look 
upon.  The  wind  blew  down  her  thick 
locks  about  her,  so  that  she  was  wrapped 
in  a  mantle  worthy  any  queen ;  while  with 
every  sweep  o'  her  strong  brown  arms  the 
tumbling  grain  did  fall  like  gold  about  her, 
so  that  she  seemed  to  be  trampling  upon 
her  treasures  after  a  manner  truly  royal. 
Also  a  red  came  into  her  shadowy  cheeks, 
like  as  though  a  scarlet  flower  tossed  into 
a  clear  brown  stream  should  rise  slowly 
upward  beneath  the  limpid  surface  and 
shine  a-through.  And  all  at  once  she 
ceased,  and  came  back  towards  the  young 
man,  and  returned  his  sickle  unto  him. 
And  she  said,  smiling, 

"  Take  thou  thy  blade,  for  I  have  not 
7 


98  The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth. 

only  reaped  the  grain,  but  I  have  reaped 
the  reward  of  my  bragging  as  well."  And, 
behold !  when  I  was  come  up  to  them  with 
a  drink  o'  water  in  a  gourd,  there  was  the 
blood  falling  down  upon  her  white  kirtle, 
as  though  the  poppies  in  her  crown  had 
melted  in  the  sunlight  and  did  stain  her 
garment. 

He  did  cry  out,  saying,  "  O'  my  word, 
lass,  thou  art  deeply  hurt.  Let  me  but 
look  at  it." 

She  saith  unto  him  (winding  her  arm 
about  in  her  long  hair),  "  Nay,  'tis  nothing, 
and  belike  if  thou  look  upon  it  'twill  spoil 
thy  dinner :  so  here's  to  thy  health,  and  my 
father  will  bind  it  for  me." 

Then,  when  we  were  retired  again  into 
the  shade,  and  I  had  torn  a  strip  off  of  her 
kirtle  wherewith  to  stanch  the  blood,  she 
laughed  outright,  and  saith, 

"  By  my  troth,  father !  I  do  verily  be 
lieve  thou  thinkest  me  awkward  without  a 
purpose." 


The  Farrier  Lass  o  Piping  Pebworth.  99 

"  Purpose !"  saith  I ;  for  I  could  not  be 
lieve  my  ears.  "  How  dost  thou  mean — 
purpose  ?" 

"  That's  neither  here  nor  there,"  saith 
she,  still  laughing.  "  But  I'll  lay  thee  my 
heifer,  father,  that  Mistress  Ruth's  sweet 
heart  cometh  on  the  morrow  to  inquire 
after  Mistress  Ruth's  cousin  Keren." 

Wherewith  she  did  make  me  a  deep 
courtesy,  and  did  get  her  back  to  the  other 
lasses  ere  I  could  reply. 

Well,  as  I  live,  and  must  some  day  die, 
and  do  hope  when  I  do  die  to  get  to 
heaven,  I  was  so  taken  aback  with  the 
hussy's  cunning  I  could  do  naught  but 
stand  and  stare  after  her  for  some  min 
utes. 

And  on  the  morrow  he  did  come,  and 
on  the  day  after  that  he  came,  and  yet  a 
third  day  and  he  was  under  my  roof  again. 

Then  saith  my  wife,  after  that  his  third 
visit  was  o'er,  and  speaking  to  Keren  as 
she  sat  spinning  i'  th'  door-way, 


ioo  The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth. 

"  Happuch,"  saith  she,  "  thou  art  serving 
thy  cousin  Ruth  a  very  jade's  trick." 

Then,  hearing  as  how  she  did  call  her 
"  Happuch,"  I  did  prick  up  my  ears,  as 
'twere;  for  I  knew  there  was  anger  brewing. 

"  Thou  art  very  free  with  thy  words  to 
day,  mother,"  quoth  the  maid,  a-spinning 
very  quickly. 

"  Not  so  free  as  thou  art  with  thy  favors 
to  the  sweetheart  o'  another  lass,"  replied 
her  mother. 

"  How  dost  thou  know  he  is  the  sweet 
heart  o'  another  lass  ?"  saith  Keren. 

"  If  an  he  be  not,"  quoth  her  mother, 
who,  though  not  half  so  big  as  her  child, 
was  in  nowise  less  valiant — "if  an  he  be 
not,"  quoth  she,  "  'tis  time  he  were." 

"  And  for  why  ?"  saith  Keren. 

"  Thou  knowest  as  well  as  I  do,  Hap 
puch,"  saith  my  wife ;  whereat  up  started 
my  crack-brain  in  a  fine  fury. 

"  Why  wilt  thou  call  me  that  vile  name, 
when  thou  knowest  how  it  maddens  me  ?" 


The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth.  101 

saith  she,  hurling  her  spindle  upon  the 
floor,  and  tightening  both  her  pretty  hands 
so  that  they  looked  like  balls  o'  her  own 
brown  yarn. 

"For  that  I  am  not  pleased  with  thee, 
Happuch,"  saith  her  mother,  with  all  com 
posure,  looking  at  the  linen  as  she  washed 
it,  with  her  head  cocked  to  one  side. 

"  There  again !"  shouted  my  wildfire, 
stamping  with  her  foot.  "  Why  didst  thou 
not  call  me  Beelzebub  2nd  have  done 
with't?" 

"  For  the  reason,"  quoth  her  mother, 
calmly,  "  that  neither  Beel  nor  Zebub  is  a 
suiting  name  for  a  woman,  and,  further 
more,  that  thou  art  not  the  Devil,  though 
thou  dost  act  like  him  on  occasions." 

"  Wife,  wife,"  put  in  I,  seeing  that  the 
girl  was  like  to  split  with  rage,  "speak 
gentler  to  Keren." 

"  To  Happuch,"  saith  she. 

"  Speak  gentler  to  the  girl,"  saith  I,  hop 
ing  to  compromise,  as  'twere. 


IO2   The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth. 

"  Happuch,"  saith  my  wife  again. 

"  Well,  well,"  saith  I,  still  hoping  to  split 
the  difference,  so  that  I  would  have  neither 
my  wife  nor  my  daughter  upon  me,  "  if 
thou  wouldst  only  speak  gentler  to  Keren- 
Happuch,  thou — " 

"  To  Happuch,"  saith  my  wife  a  third 
time;  whereat  the  lass  did  bounce  out  o' 
the  house  without  more  ado,  and  spent  that 
night  with  a  friend  o'  her  own,  by  name 
one  Mistress  Meg  Titmouse. 

"  Wife,"  saith  I  unto  her  later,  hoping 
to  draw  her  into  converse  concerning 
Keren,  so  that  I  might  reason  with  her 
as  to  her  treatment  o'  th'  lass  — "  wife," 
saith  I,  amiably,  and,  as  I  thought,  in  a 
manner  most  winsome,  "  wherefore  didst 
thou  speak  to  Keren  as  thou  didst  this 
morning  ?" 

"  I  spake  to  Happuch,"  saith  my  wife, 
"  because  I  did  choose  so  to  do.  And  as 
for  the  why  o'  that  wherefore,  though  thou 
shouldst  smirk  till  doomsday  like  a  dog 


The  Farrier  Lass  o  Piping  Pebworth.  103 

scratching  his  ear,  ne'er  wilt  thou  get  it 
out  o'  me !" 

Then  saith  I,  being  justly  angered,  as  I 
think  thou  wilt  admit,  comrade — saith  I, 

"Thou  art  welcome  to  keep  thy  coun 
sel  !"  saith  I. 

And  I  followed  the  example  set  me  by 
my  vixen,  and  did  spend  more  than  half 
the  night  at  this  very  tavern. 

Well,  the  next  morning,  as  I  did  pass 
out  on  my  way  to  my  forge,  whom  should 
I  see  in  the  garden  but  my  Keren  and 
Master  Robert  Hacket !  and  if  e'er  a  wom 
an  was  possessed  o'  a  devil,  'twas  just  that 
lass  o'  mine  then,  comrade.  She  had 
caused  young  Hacket  to  climb  up  into  a 
pear-tree,  and  while  that  he  was  up  there 
she  did  bear  away  the  ladder  by  which  he 
had  mounted,  and  she  saith  to  him, 

"  Now,  Master  Robin,  I  am  going  to 
sing  thee  a  song.  Wilt  thou  listen?" 

"With  all  my  heart,"  saith  he.  So  he 
leaned  on  his  elbow,  stretched  out  like  a 


IO4  The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth. 

young  panther  along  the  limb  o'  th'  tree, 
and  looked  down  on  her.  Now,  as  I  live, 
down  went  that  jade  on  her  knees  in  the 
grass,  and  she  lifts  up  her  two  pretty  hands 
to  him  as  though  in  prayer,  and  thus  sings 
she  (I  knew  the  song  by  heart) : 

" '  Listen,  Robin,  while  I  woo. 

This  world's  stale  with  repetition : 
I'll  not  do  as  others  do ; 

Haste  thee,  love,  to  my  tuition. 
Robin,  I'll  make  love  to  you, 
As  men  to  other  maidens  do. 

" '  Oh,  what  eyes  my  Robin  hath ! 

April  fields  own  no  such  blue ; 
In  the  luscious  aftermath 

There's  no  flower  so  fair  to  view. 
Robin,  Robin,  hear  me  woo. 
All  my  soul's  in  love  with  you ! 

" '  Robin,  will  you  marry  me  ? — 
Thus  upon  my  knees  I  sue : 

O'  my  word  I'll  harry  thee 

Like  as  men  their  sweethearts  do. 

Robin,  as  I  live  I'm  true : 

Will  you  wed  me,  Robin?— Will  you?'" 


The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebwortk.  105 

Now,  what  chanced  thereupon  I  think 
thou  wilt  agree  with  me,  comrade,  in  say 
ing  it  did  but  serve  her  right.  Down  falls 
he  like  a  ripe  pomewater  at  her  side,  and 
takes  her  about  the  waist,  and  sets  his 
mouth  to  hers  (all  in  a  twink,  comrade ; 
thou  hadst  not  time  to  shape  thy  mouth 
for  a  whistle  ere  'twas  all  done,  or  verily 
my  mouth  had  given  forth  something  be 
sides  whistling),  and  saith  he, 

"  That  will  I,  lass ;  an'  if  thou  be  not 
my  wife  ere  that  snail-coming  new  moon 
doth  thrust  out  her  horns,  my  name  is  not 
Hacket,  nor  will  thine  be !" 

Now,  comrade,  though  it  doth  shame  me 
verily  so  to  speak  o'  mine  own  flesh,  I  saw 
by  her  pretending  to  push  him  away  that 
she  did  mightily  relish  his  kisses;  for,  by 
my  troth  !  had  she  sought  to  scuffle  with 
him  'twould  'a'  been  as  snug  an  encounter 
as  when  day  and  night  wrestle  for  the  last 
bit  o'  a  June  sky. 

And  she  saith  to  him,  feigning  to  scowl, 


io6   The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth. 

"  How  now,  thou  rapscallion !  dost  thou 
dare  ?" 

"Ay,  ay,"  quoth  he,  "in  verity  I  do!" 
quoth  he.  And  in  verity  a  did,  too. 

But  just  as  I  was  consulting  with  the 
Lord  how  to  act,  He  having  had  even 
a  greater  experience  with  wayward  chil 
dren  than  myself  (may  He  pardon  me 
if  I  be  too  free  with  His  holy  name  !) — 
just,  I  say,  as  I  was  asking  Him  to  show 
me  in  what  wise  to  proceed,  up  goes  her 
hand,  and  she  gives  him  a  sound  cuff  o'  th' 
ear  (young  Hacket's  ear — not  the  Lord's; 
may  He  pardon  me  if  so  it  sounded),  and 
she  saith, 

"  Take  that  for  striving  to  make  a  fool 
out  o'  an  honest  girl !  I  know  thy  goings 
on  with  Ruth  Visor,"  saith  she.  "  Thou'lt 
ne'er  blind  me  with  thy  pretty  speecher- 
ies."  And  a  was  o'er  th'  palings  and  out 
o'  sight  like  a  wind-blown  leaf. 

Then  did  young  Hacket  come  to  th' 
fence  and  lean  upon  it  with  both  his  arms, 


The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth.  107 

and  support  his  chin  with  a  thumb  on 
either  side  o't,  and  saith  he, 

"  Methinks  she'd  'a'  made  a  better  war 
rior  than  a  wife,"  saith  he ;  "  but  when  she 
hath  ta'en  off  the  edge  o'  her  warlike  spirit 
in  fighting  for  her  freedom,"  saith  he,  "why, 
then,"  saith  he,  "  I'll  marry  her  I"  So  saith 
he — every  word  o't.  By  my  troth,  comrade, 
an  I  had  not  had  so  much  the  advantage 
by  having  my  nippers  in  my  hand,  I  would 
'a'  thrashed  him  then  and  there.  But, 
"  fair  play "  being  my  motto,  and  having 
my  nippers,  as  I  saith,  I  forbore;  yea,  I 
forbore,  and  walked  away  unseen  of  him. 
And,  o'  my  word,  I  was  much  angered 
with  myself  for  not  being  more  angry  with 
th'  wench. 

"  For,"  saith  I,  out  loud,  that  I  might 
be  impressed  by  the  sound  as  well  as  by 
the  knowledge  o'  th'  fact  — "for,"  saith  I, 
a-hammering  away  on  a  shoe  for  Joe  Peb- 
bles's  brown  nag  King  Edward  (though  I 
had  often  reasoned  with  Joe  on  account  o' 


io8   The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth. 

th'  name,  first  because  o'  its  irreverence, 
second  on  account  o'  th'  horse  not  being 
that  kind  o'  a  horse,  as  'twas  a  mare) — 
"  for,"  saith  I,  as  I  made  th'  shoe,  saith  I, 
"  'tis  sure  a  great  wickedness  to  steal  a 
lass's  sweetheart  away  from  her!"  saith  I. 
And  so  'twas ;  but,  for  all  I  could  do,  I 
could  not  feel  angered  with  the  hussy. 

But  that  day  when  she  did  fetch  me  my 
dinner,  being  finished,  I  did  pull  down  th' 
sleeves  o'  my  shirt,  and  wiped  off  my  leath 
ern  apron,  and  quoth  I  to  her, 

"  Lass,  come  here  and  sit  upon  my  knee." 
So  she  comes  right  willingly,  being  fond 
o'  me  to  an  extent  that  did  oft  seem  to 
astony  the  mother  that  bore  her  (seeing 
that  she  was  fond  o'  naught  save  her  own 
way) ;  she  comes,  and  she  perches  upon  my 
knee  (as  sometimes  thou  shalt  see  a  hawk 
rest  wings  on  a  bull's  back),  and  she  kittles 
my  throat  with  her  long  brown  fingers, 
and  hugs  me  about  the  neck  (the  jade !  a 
knew  I  was  for  scolding  her),  and  saith  she, 


The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth.  109 

"Well,  father,  here  be  I."  Methinks  I 
can  hear  her  say  it  now,  as  soft  as  any 
little  toddler  come  for  a  kiss.  "  Here  be 
I,"  she  saith ;  and  with  that  she  fills  all  my 
face  with  her  curls  (the  jade !  a  saw  that 
in  my  eye  which  a  did  not  care  to  face). 
"  Here  be  I,"  saith  she. 

"Ay,"  saith  I,  speaking  in  a  gruff  voice; 
"  and  now  that  here  thou  be,"  saith  I,  "  I'll 
tell  thee  what  I  want  of  thee." 

"Thou  canst  want  naught  that  I  will 
not  do,"  saith  she.  (The  jade !  a  had  a 
way  with  her  to  'a'  made  Bess  herself  yearn 
for  matrimony.)  But  I  was  stanch;  I  was 
stanch,  comrade.  Saith  I, 

"  Methinks  thy  mother  was  right  to  speak 
to  thee  as  yesternight  she  did,"  saith  I ;  "for 
I  saw  thee  strive  to  graft  a  pear-tree  with  a 
branch  o'  th'  tree  o'  knowledge,"  saith  I. 

"  Then,"  saith  she,  hot  as  my  forge  all  in 
a  breath,  and  bouncing  from  my  knee — 
"  then  thou  wast  an  eavesdropper !"  saith 
she. 


no  The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth. 

"  Even  as  the  Lord  afore  me,"  saith  I, 
not  over-pleased  at  her  sauciness.  "And 
being  in  some  sort  thy  Creator,  and  thou 
having  set  up  for  thyself  an  Eden  in  my 
garden,"  saith  I,  "  who  hath  a  greater  right 
than  I  to  watch  over  thee  ?"  saith  I. 

Then  she  not  answering  me,  thus  did  I 
continue : 

"  Why  dost  thou  not  take  unto  thyself 
an  husband,"  quoth  I,  "  to  do  both  thyself 
and  thy  parents  a  credit?" 

"  Show  me  such  an  one,"  saith  she,  "  and 
I  do  promise  thee  to  wed  him." 

"  There,  then,"  quoth  I,  "  is  Davy  Short- 
hose,  the  poulterer — " 

"A  bangled-eared  buffoon  as  ever  lived!" 
quoth  she ;  "  and  a  fool  into  the  bargain." 

"  So  be  it,"  saith  I ;  for  I  was  set  upon 
keeping  my  temper.  "  What  dost  thou  say 
to  Beryamen  Piggin,  the  brewer?" 

"A  say  if  ever  a  piggin  was  in  sore  need  o' 
a  new  link,  'tis  that  one,"  saith  she.  "  And, 
what's  more,  I'll  not  serve  for  't,"  saith  she. 


The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth.  1 1 1 

"  How,  then,  of  Nanfan  Speckle,  the  tan 
ner?" 

"A's  as  pied  as  a's  name,"  quoth  she, 
"  both  soul  and  body." 

"  There  be  Jezreel  Spittlewig,  the  joiner." 

"  Methinks,"  quoth  she,  "  if  a'd  do  a  little 
joining  to  a's  own  shackling  body,  a  might 
hold  together  long  enough  to  go  through 
the  marriage  ceremony,"  saith  she.  "  How- 
beit,  I'm  not  a-sure  of  't." 

"  Well,  then,  Jack  Stirthepot,  the  chair- 
mender." 

"A'd  have  to  stir  th'  pot  with  a  witch 
ere  a  brewed  a  wedding  with  me,"  quoth 
she. 

"What  sayest  to  Reuben  Puff,  the 
tinker  ?" 

"  If  I  say  so  much  as  a  word  to  any  one 
o'  em,"  cried  she,  snatching  up  the  pail 
wherein  she  had  brought  my  victuals, 
"may  thy  first  grandchild  be  born  with 
out  a  tongue !"  saith  she.  And  out  she 
went. 


H2   The  Farrier  Lass  o  Piping  Pebworth. 

Then  quoth  I  to  myself,  quoth  I, "  Lem 
on,"  quoth  I,  "  the  jade's  in  love  with  th' 
crack — no  more,  no  less."  And  I  said  fur 
ther,  said  I,  "  Bodykins !"  said  I,  a-shoeing 
of  King  Edward  with  all  my  might,  "  by 
cock  and  pye !"  said  I,  "  an  a  wants  him 
let  a  have  him.  Tis  more  than  his  de 
sert,  I'll  warrant,"  so  quoth  I.  "And  as  for 
Dame  Visor's  hussy,  let  her  learn  to  bridle 
her  tongue,"  quoth  I.  And  'twas  just  here 
that  wench  Keren  did  creep  up  and  take 
me  about  the  neck,  as  I  was  a-filing  of  King 
Edward's  hoof. 

"  Father,"  saith  she,  "  I  cry  thee  pardon 
if  I  have  sauced  thee ;  but  dost  not  mind 
the  rhyme  thou  art  so  fond  of  ? — 

" '  Shoe  the  horse,  and  shoe  the  mare, 
But  let  the  little  colt  go  bare.' 

Seek  not  to  chide  me,  father,  and  ne'er  will 
my  heels  bring  hurt  to  any." 

Then  off  was  she  again  ere  I  had  spat 
forth  my  mouthful  o'  nails  to  answer  her. 

But  that  evening  as  I  came  home,  about 


The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth.  1 1 3 

the  going  down  o'  th'  sun,  I  did  hear  voices 
i'  th'  kitchen,  and,  looking  in  at  th'  window, 
behold,  there  was  that  hussy  Ruth  a-pluck- 
ing  of  Keren  by  th'  kirtle,  and  Keren  a-hold- 
ing  of  a  pan  o'  milk  above  her  head,  as 
though  she  had  half  a  mind  to  souse  her 
cousin  in  't. 

And  saith  she,  "  Get  to  thy  feet,  wench. 
This  is  neither  a  church,  nor  am  I  th'  Lord." 

But  th'  girl  (who  seemed  to  be  in  trouble 
o'  some  sort)  fell  a-sobbing,  and  saith  she, 

"  Cousin,  cousin,  I  know  I  have  used 
thee  ill,  but  all  my  joy  is  in  him.  If  thou 
takest  him  from  me,  better  didst  thou  take 
my  life,  for  he  is  more  to  me  than  life." 

Then  quoth  my  lass,  "  Shame  on  thee 
to  say  it  o'  any  man,  worthy  or  unworthy !" 

"  Oh,  shame  enough  have  I,  cousin !" 
quoth  the  poor  wench — "shame  to  'a'  lost 
him,  and  shame  that  I  should  plead  with 
another  to  give  him  back  to  me  !" 

"  Go  to !"  saith  Keren ;  "  go  to  !     I  have 
not  got  him  to  give  him  back  to  thee." 
8 


H4  Tlie  Farrier  Lass  o  Piping  Pebworth. 

"  Thou  hast !"  saith  Ruth  ;  "  thou  hast  !— 
he  is  thine,  soul  and  body — soul  and  body ! 
And  thou  dost  not  care ;  and  I  care — oh,  I 
care  so  that  I  know  not  how  to  word  it !" 

(Every  word  that  passed  between  'em  is 
as  clear  in  my  mind  as  though  'twere  but 
yesterday  it  all  happened.) 

"  I  say  shame  on  thee  to  say  so,"  saith 
my  lass  again. 

But  the  wench  still  hung  about  her,  and 
would  not  let  go,  and  she  saith, 

"  Oh,  cousin,  cousin,  cousin,  doth  it  not 
show  thee  in  what  straits  I  am,  that  I  come 
to  thee  for  succor?  Rather  had  I  died, 
one  week  agone,  than  ask  thee  for  thy 
hand  though  I  were  drowning.  And  sure 
'tis  less  than  thy  hand  for  which  I  ask  thee 
now,  sith  it  be  for  a  man  who  is  less  to 
thee  than  the  littlest  finger  on  that  hand, 
but  who  is  more  to  me  than  the  heart  in 
my  wretched  body !  And  a  had  vowed  to 
wed  me ;  and  'twas  next  month  we  were  to 
be  wed ;  and  all  so  happy — my  father  and 


The  Farrier  Lass  o  Piping  Pebworth.  115 

my  mother  so  pleased,  and  his  folks  do  like 
me  well;  and  my  wedding-gown  all  sewn 
and  lain  away,  and  the  ribbons  for  my 
shoes,  and  some  kickshaws  for  th'  new 
house ;  and  all  we  so  glad,  and  all  going 
so  smooth,  and  we  twain  so  loving;  for, 
oh,  he  did  love  me  the  once !  he  did  love 
me  the  once !  And  now — now — now — " 
And  here  did  she  fall  a-weeping  in  such 
wise  that  never  another  word  could  she 
say.  And  she  sate  down  on  the  kitchen 
floor,  and  hid  all  her  pretty  head  (for 
pretty  'twas,  though  I  liked  her  not) — hid 
it  all  in  the  skirt  o'  her  kirtle." 

Then  stood  my  lass  quite  still,  and  her 
face  like  the  milk  in  her  pan,  and  she  looks 
down  on  th'  hussy,  as  a  horse  might  look 
down  on  a  kitten  which  it  hath  unwitting 
trampled  on,  and  she  saith, 

"  I  would  I  knew  whether  or  no  thou 
speakest  the  truth !" 

Then  saith  the  wench,  a-reaching  up  her 
clasped  hands  to  heaven — saith  she, 


1 1 6  The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth. 

"  May  God  forever  curse  me  an  I  do 
not !" 

"  Take  not  God's  name  in  vain,"  saith 
my  lass,  sharply,  and  went  and  set  down 
her  pan  o'  milk  on  the  cupboard.  And 
again  she  stands,  slowly  wiping  her  hands 
on  her  apron,  and  looking  down  at  th'  girl, 
who  hath  once  more  covered  all  her  face 
in  her  petticoat;  and  by-and-by  she  saith 
to  her, 

"  What  is  't  thou  wouldst  have  me  do  ?" 

"  Give  me  back  my  Robin !  give  me 
back  my  Robin !"  saith  the  maid. 

"  Thou  art  welcome  to  him  for  me,"  saith 
Keren. 

Then  fell  the  maid  a-weeping  more  bit 
terly  than  ever,  and  she  huddled  herself  on 
the  hard  floor,  like  a  young  bird  that  hath 
fallen  out  o'  its  nest,  and  sobbed  piteously. 
And  presently  gets  she  to  her  feet  without 
a  word,  still  a -hiding  of  her  face  in  her 
kirtle,  and  turns  to  go,  a -feeling  her  way 
with  one  o'  her  little  hands.  But  when 


The  Farrier  Lass  o  Piping  Pebworth.  1 1 7 

she  hath  reached  th'  door,  and  hath  got 
one  foot  on  the  threshold,  up  strides  that 
lass  o'  mine,  and,  taking  her  by  the  arm, 
swings  her  back  into  th'  room ;  and  she 
makes  her  sit  down  on  a  settle  and  take 
down  her  kirtle  from  her  face.  And  while 
she  is  snooding  up  her  ruffled  locks,  she 
saith  unto  her, 

"  Thou  art  a  little  fool  to  cry  so ;  dost 
hear?  What!  at  it  again?  Well,  well, 
God  patience  me!  What's  a  body  to  do 
with  such  a  little  ninny  ?  There  !  dry  your 
eyes.  Ye  shall  have  your  Robin,  never 
fear.  God-a-mercy!  at  what  art  blubber 
ing  now  ?"  But  down  slipped  Ruth  on  her 
knees,  and  caught  Keren  about  hers,  and 
she  saith  unto  her, 

"  Heaven  bless  thee !  thou  art  a  good 
woman !  May  Heaven  forgive  me  for  all 
such  words  as  e'er  I  have  said  against 
thee  !  Bless  thee !  bless  thee !" 

"  Bodykins  !"  saith  my  lass  (having  learn 
ed  some  round  oaths  from  me,  I  do  grieve 


1 1 8   The  Farrier  Lass  o  Piping  Pebworth. 

to  say) — "  bodykins  !"  saith  she,  "  wilt  a-hear 
th'  lass  ?  I  say  scamper,  scamper ;  my  fa 
ther  '11  be  coming  home  to  sup  erelong, 
and  I  would  not  he  found  thee  thus. 
Away  with  thee!  and  fret  no  more:  dost 
hear  ?  If  I  hear  that  thou  hast  moped  any 
further  from  this  hour  on,  I'll  not  answer 
either  for  my  doings  or  for  those  o'  others : 
dost  hear?  Now  scamper!"  And  scam 
per  a  did,  like  a  hare  with  th'  hounds 
upon  't. 

So  full  was  I  o'  praising  my  lass  on  her 
good  'havior  that  I  had  got  me  from  th' 
lattice  and  was  half  in  at  the  door  ere  I 
saw  what  had  befallen. 

There  was  my  madcap,  comrade,  down 
on  her  knees  afore  the  settle,  wi'  both 
hands  gripped  in  her  thick  locks,  and  her 
head  bent  forward  on  th'  wooden  seat; 
and  she  made  no  sound,  neither  uttered 
she  any  word,  but  a  shook  like  water  when 
a  heavy  weight  rolls  past.  And  a  drew 
long  breaths  ever  and  anon,  like  one  that 


The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth.  119 

hath  been  half  drowned  and  is  coming 
back  to  life.  And  I  knew  then,  I  knew 
then,  comrade.  I  had  thought  a  loved  th' 
boy;  and  I  knew  then.  So  I  got  me  out, 
without  making  any  clatter,  and  I  sat  me 
down  on  a  bench  outside  th'  kitchen  door 
to  think  't  over;  and,  by  cock  and  pye, 
man,  ne'er  a  thought  could  I  think  for  th' 
tears  in  my  eyes.  Th'  poor  lass !  th'  poor 
lass !  It  fetches  th'  salt  into  my  een  now 
to  think  on  't.  Well,  well,  what's  past  is 
past,  and  God  himself  cannot  undo  't;  and 
what's  coming's  coming,  and  God  wunnot 
hinder  it  an  he  could;  so  there's  an  end 
on  't.  Fill  up,  man,  fill  up !  What  there, 
I  say !  Joel,  I  say !  A  quart  o'  sack  for 
Master  Turnip. 

Well,  when  I  had  thought  it  well  o'er, 
I  did  determine  to  say  naught  to  th'  lass 
whatsoever ;  neither  did  I ;  but  meseems 
I  was  bound  to  o'erhear  heart-breaking 
words  atween  somebody,  for  th'  very  next 
day,  as  I  was  henting  th'  style  as  leads 


1 20  The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth. 

into  th'  lane  (thou  knowest  the  lane  I 
mean,  comrade:  't  lies  atween  Cowslip 
Meadow  and  th'  pool  i'  th'  hollow — Sweet 
hearts'  Way,  they  call  't) — well,  as  I  was 
getting  o'er  th'  style  —  as  I  had  just  got 
me  o'er  by  one  leg,  after  this  fashion,  ye 
mind;  as  though  this  chair  here  were  th' 
style,  and  yonder  chimney-place  th'  lane — 
Sweethearts'  Way,  ye  mind — well,  as  I  was 
half  over,  and  Mumble,  th'  turnspit  pup, 
half  under,  as  'twere,  I  heard  voices — 
voices,  comrade — one  o'  them  th'  voice  o' 
that  lass  o'  mine,  and  t'other  th'  voice  o' 
young  Hacket. 

"  Here  be  a  coil,"  say  I.    "  What's  to  do  ?" 
Now  the  pup  seemed  to  be  filled  with 
the  spirit  o'  th'  Lord  all  on  a  sudden,  af 
ter  th'  fashion  o'  th'  talking  jackass  i'  th' 
Scriptures ;  for  if  a  didna  talk  a  did  th'  next 
'thing  to  't — a  tried  to.     And  after  pulling 
at  my  heels  like  as  though  a  fiend  had  got 
him,  a  scuttles  into  th'  thicket,  for  no  cause, 
as  I  could  see,  but  to  give  me  th'  benefit  o' 


The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth.  121 

example.  So  in  goes  I  after  him.  Scarce 
was  I  settled,  with  a  bramble  down  th' 
back  o'  my  neck,  and  some  honey-bees  at 
work  too  nigh  to  my  legs  for  my  peace  o' 
mind,  when  they  come,  and  both  a -chat 
tering  at  th'  same  time  like  two  magpies 
with  slit  tongues. 

"  Thou  didst !"  quoth  he.  "  That  did  I 
not !"  quoth  she.  "  Thou  didst,  and  I  can 
prove  't  on  thee !"  quoth  he,  louder  than 
afore.  "  I  tell  thee  I  did  not,  and  thou 
canst  sooner  prove  that  Bidford  Mill  turns 
the  Avon  than  that  I  did!"  quoth  she. 
"  Wilt  thou  stand  there  and  tell  me  i'  th' 
eyes  that  thou  hast  so  oft  looked  love 
into,"  quoth  he,  like  a  man  choked  with 
spleen — "  I  say,  wilt  thou,  Keren  Lemon, 
stand  there  and  face  me,  Robert  Racket, 
and  say  thou  hast  ne'er  given  me  rea 
son  to  believe  that  thou  didst  love  me?" 
quoth  he.  "  No  more  cause  than  I've  giv 
en  to  twenty  better  than  thee !"  quoth  she. 
"  Shame  on  thee  to  say  't,  thou  bold-faced 


122  The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth. 

jig!"  saith  he;  "shame  on  thee,  I  say!  and 
so  will  say  all  honest  folk  when  I  tell 
'em  o'  't."  "An  thou  tell  it,  the  more  fool 
thou,"  saith  she;  and  a  draws  up  her  red 
lips  into  a  circle  as  though  a'd  had  a  draw 
string  in  'em,  and  a  stands  and  looks  at 
him  as  a  used  to  stand  and  look  at  her 
dam  when  she  chid  her  for  a  romp.  Then 
all  on  a  sudden,  with  such  a  nimbleness 
as  took  away  my  breath  and  drove  all 
thoughts  o'  brambles  and  honey-bees  clean 
out  o'  my  pate,  he  jumps  aside  o'  her,  and 
gets  her  about  th'  middle,  as  he  did  that 
day  under  th'  pear-tree,  and  quoth  he, 
"Lass,"  quoth  he,  "dunnot  break  my  heart! 
dunnot  break  th'  heart  that  loves  ye  more 
than  a'  that's  in  the  earth,  or  th'  heavens 
above,  or  th'  waters  below!  Say  ye  love 
me,  and  ha'  done  with  't." 

Then  gives  she  up  herself  to  him  for 
one  beat  o'  her  own  breaking  heart,  the 
poor  madcap,  and  she  leans  on  him  with 
all  her  pretty  self,  as  though  begging  him 


The  Farrier  Lass  rf  Piping  Pebworth.  123 

to  take  her  against  her  own  will,  and  then 
a  cry  breaks  from  her,  half  human,  and  half 
like  th'  cry  o'  a  hurt  beast,  and  she  saith, 

"  Shame  on  ye,  shame  on  ye,  to  forsake 
th'  lass  ye  ha'  sworn  to  wed!  Get  thee 
back  to  her  straightway,  or  ne'er  look  me 
i'  th'  face  again  !"  And  she  leaps  back  from 
him,  and  points  with  her  arm — as  stiff  and 
steady  as  th'  tail  o'  a  sportsman's  dog — 
towards  th'  village,  and  she  saith  again, 
"  Get  thee  back  to  her ;  get  thee  back  to 
Ruth  Visor,  and  wed  with  her  ere  this 
month  be  out  o'  the  year!" 

Then  lifts  he  his  sullen  head,  and  looks 
at  her  from  under  his  brows  like  a  smitten 
blood -hound.  And  he  saith  back  o'  his 
clamped  teeth,  like  as  'twere  a  dog  gnarl- 
ing  in  his  throat,  "curse  ye  for  a  false 
jade !"  saith  he ;  "  Curse  ye  for  as  black 
hearted  a  jade  as  e'er  set  an  honest  man 
on  th'  road  to  hell !"  And  he  turned,  and 
cleared  th'  style  with  one  hand  on  't,  and 
went  his  ways. 


124  The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth. 

And  th'  lass  stood  and  looked  after  him 
as  still  as  though  she  were  turned  into  a 
pillar  o'  summat,  after  th'  manner  o'  th' 
woman  i'  th'  holy  book,  and  both  her 
hands  grasping  her  breast.  But  anon 
there  comes  a  trouble  o'er  her  face,  like 
as  when  a  little  wind  doth  run  across  a 
gray  pool  at  eventide,  and  her  lips  begin 
to  tremble,  like  as  though  some  red  flower 
a-growing  on  th'  bank  was  shaken  by  't, 
and  her  eyes  all  full  o'  woe,  like  th'  eyes 
o'  some  dumb  thing  as  cannot  word  its 
sorrow ;  and  all  at  once  she  falls  upon  her 
knees,  and  thence  upon  her  forehead  on 
the  ground,  and  afterwards  to  her  whole 
length,  with  her  strong  hands  grasping  th' 
flowers  and  grass  on  either  side  o'  her,  and 
tearing  them  up  with  th'  crackling  noise 
that  a  horse  makes  when  't  grazes.  But 
no  sound  escapes  her,  whether  a  sigh  or  a 
groan.  Well,  well,  comrade,  I  cry  thee  pa 
tience  if  I  do  stumble  here  a  bit:  I  cannot 
think  on  't  now  without  a  tightness  i'  my 


The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth.  125 

throat,  any  more  than  a  man  can  think  o' 
th'  day  his  first  child  was  born  to  him  with 
out  his  heart  leaping  hot  in  's  throat  like 
the  flame  to  th'  bellows.  Well,  well !  Fill 
up,  I  say ;  fill  up.  Remember  th'  old  days, 
when  thou  wast  more  ale-washed  than  th' 
bottle  itself.  Where  be  I  i'  th'  narrative? 
Yea,  yea,  'tis  there — 'tis  there ;  I  mind  me 
o't  now. 

No  sound  'scaped  her,  but  presently  she 
lifts  herself  up  upon  her  knees  again,  with 
such  heaviness  as  a  horse  overburdened 
doth  get  him  to  his  feet,  and  she  holds  out 
both  her  arms  i'  th'  direction  where  th'  lad 
hath  vanished,  wi'  th'  grass  and  flowers  yet 
fast  in  her  clinched  hands;  and  she  saith 
twice,  i'  th'  voice  o'  a  woman  in  travail, 

"  Never  will  he  know,  never  will  he 
know,"  she  saith;  and  then,  "Oh,  God!" 
she  saith,  a-lifting  her  hands  again  to  her 
breast.  "  Summat's  broke  here,"  she  saith, 
full  meek,  like  a  body  that's  looked  a  many 
time  on  pain — "  summat's  broke,  summat's 


126   The  Farrier  Lass  o  Piping  Pebworth. 

broke,"  o'er  and  o'er  again,  as  though  she 
would  use  herself  to  th'  sound,  as  'twere. 
Then  all  at  once  did  a  deep  cry  break  from 
her.  "  God,  O  God,"  she  saith,  "  show  me 
how  to  bear  't !  My  God,  my  God,  show  me 
how  to  bear  't."  And  she  got  to  her  feet, 
and  sped  down  th'  lane  like  one  blind,  run 
ning  first  into  th'  hawthorn  bushes  o'  this 
side,  then  into  th'  quickset  hedge  o'  th'  oth 
er,  and  tearing  out  her  loosened  tresses  on 
th'  low-hanging  branches  o'  th'  pear-trees,  so 
that  I  traced  her  by  her  hair  i'  th'  twigs, 
like  as  thou  wouldst  trace  any  poor  lost 
lamb  by  its  wool  on  the  brambles.  Now, 
it  did  almost  break  my  own  heart  to  say 
naught  to  her  concerning  all  o't,  but  I 
knew  that  'twould  but  grieve  without  com 
forting  her;  and  rather  would  I  'a'  had  my 
old  heart  split  in  twain  than  bring  one 
more  ache  into  her  true  breast.  So  naught 
say  I.  Never  a  word,  comrade,  from  then 
till  now  have  I  e'er  said  to  her  about  that 
time. 


The  Farrier  Lass  o  Piping  Pebworth.  127 

Well,  for  all  's  fine  talk,  Master  Hacket 
went  no  more  to  hell  than  do  any  other 
men  that  marry — an'  less  than  some,  see 
ing  as  how  a  did  not  marry  a  scold,  which 
(God  forgive  me,  or  her,  or  both  o'  us)  I 
have  done.  Yea,  comrade,  I  will  commem 
orate  this  our  first  meeting  in  eight  years 
by  confessing  to  thee  that  my  wife  (in  thy 
ear,  comrade) — that  my  wife  was  a  scold. 
Sometimes  I  do  verily  think  as  how  wom 
en  like  Mistress  Lemon  be  sent  unto  men 
to  keep  'em  from  pondering  too  heavi 
ly  concerning  the  absence  o'  marriage  in 
heaven.  By  cock  and  pye,  man,  as  I  live, 
I  do  honestly  believe  that  I  would  rather 
be  a  bachelor  in  hell,  than  the  husband  o' 
Mistress  Lemon  in  heaven ! 

But  to  come  back  to  th'  lass.  And,  now 
that  I  think  o'  th'  lass,  comrade,  I  am  not 
so  sure  that  a  scolding  wife  is  not  well 
paid  for  by  a  duteous  daughter.  Nay,  I 
am  sure  o't.  Methinks  I  would  'a'  been 
wed  twice,  and  each  time  to  a  shrew,  could 


128   The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth. 

I  but  'a'  had  my  Keren  o1  one  o'  'em.  Ay, 
even  so,  even  so. 

Well,  as  I  said — or  as  I  meant  to  say 
— Master  Hacket  wedded  th'  Visor  hussy 
within  two  weeks  o'  th'  day  whereon  he 
and  my  Keren  had  't  so  fierce  i'  Sweet 
hearts'  Way.  And  therein  are  two  mean 
ings:  they  fell  out,  as  is  the  way  with 
sweethearts,  and  they  fell  out  i'  th'  lane  so 
called. 

Well,  well,  let  me  crack  a  quart  o'  sack 
with  thee,  comrade,  and  a  joke  at  th'  same 
time. 

A  married  Ruth  Visor,  and  they  went 
to  Lunnon  Town.  And  on  th'  night  o' 
their  wedding,  as  I  sat  by  the  fireside  i'  th' 
kitchen  a-mending  my  tools  (for  'twas  on 
a  Saturday  night),  and  Keren  abed,  and 
Mistress  Lemon  a-peeling  o'  leather-jack 
ets  to  make  th'  Sunday  pie, 

"  Wife,"  saith  I  to  her  (a-mending  my 
tools,  as  I  ha'  said),"  wife,  "quoth  I,  "would 
'twere  our  lass  were  wed  to-day!" 


The  Farrier  Lass  o  Piping  Pebworth.  129 

"  For  why  ?"  saith  she.    No  more,  no  less. 

"  For  why  ?"  saith  I.  "  For  the  why  I 
think  a  lass  is  happier  wed  to  th'  man  she 
loves,"  saith  I. 

"Tis  not  so  I've  found  it,"  quoth  she, 
a-peeling  of  an  apple  so  that  thou  couldst 
V  put  his  whole  coat  back  and  not  'a' 
known  't  had  e'er  come  off. 

Then  quoth  I,  a-chuckling  in  my  throat 
at  having  so  snared  her,  "  Right  glad  am  I 
to  find  out  that  thou  lovest  me !"  quoth  I. 

"  If  thou'st  found  out  that,"  quoth  she, 
"thou'rt  greater  than  Columbus,"  quoth 
she,  "  for  thou'st  discovered  something  that 
never  was,"  quoth  she. 

"  Bodykins,  woman !"  saith  I,  a-losing  of 
my  temper  —  "then  for  what  didst  thou 
marry  me  ?" 

"  For  a  fool,"  quoth  she.  "  And  I  will 
say  as  I  ha'  got  the  full  o'  my  bargain," 
quoth  she. 

Whereat  so  wroth  was  I  that  I  said 
naught,  knowing  that  if  I  did  open  my  lips 
9 


1 30  The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth. 

or  move  my  hand  'twould  be  to  curse  her 
with  th'  one  and  cuff  her  with  t'other. 

By-and-by  saith  she,  "  And  where,  by'r 
lay'kin,  wilt  thou  find  a  man  good  enough 
in  thy  eyes  for  th'  lass  ?"  saith  she. 

"Not  on  earth,"  quoth  I.  "Neither  in 
this  land  nor  that  other  across  the  sea," 
quoth  I. 

"Ay,  ay,"  quoth  she.  "Very  like  thou 
wouldst  have  th'  wench  to  wed  with  an 
angel,"  quoth  she ;  "  to  have  all  thy  grand 
children  roosting  on  a  gold  bar,  and  their 
dad  a-teaching  of  'em  how  to  use  their 
wings,"  quoth  she.  "  Or  with  one  o'  th' 
red  men  i'  th'  new  country,  to  have  them 
piebald  red  and  white,  like  a  cock-horse  at 
Banbury  Cross,"  quoth  she.  And  with 
that  up  she  gets,  and  flings  the  apple- 
parings  into  th'  fire,  and  gets  her  to  bed 
without  more  ado.  Whereupon  day  doth 
again  find  me  i'  this  very  tavern. 

Well,  well,  a  year  had  passed,  and  things 
were  jogging  very  peaceful  like,  and  Keren 


The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth.  131 

settled  down  as  quiet  as  a  plough-broken 
mare,  when  one  day  as  I  sit  i'  th'  kitchen, 
while  th'  lass  mends  my  apron,  there  comes 
a  fumbling  at  th'  latch  like  as  though  a 
child  made  shift  to  open  it.  Then  quoth 
I, "  Belike  'tis  little  Marjory  Pebble,  or  one 
o'  the  Mouldy  lads  over  th'  way ;"  for  the 
babes  all  loved  Keren,  and,  now  that  she 
was  waxed  so  quiet,  th'  lads  left  her  more 
to  herself,  and  she  would  sit  on  th'  bench 
by  the  cottage  door  and  make  little  kick 
shaws  by  th'  hour  —  elder -wood  whistles, 
and  dolls  o'  forked  radishes,  and  what  not. 
So  quoth  I,  "  Belike  'tis  little  Marjory  Peb 
ble,"  quoth  I,  and  th'  lass  having  her  lap 
full  o'  my  apron,  I  went  and  opened  th' 
door.  And  there,  comrade,  a-kneeling  in 
th'  grass  outside,  with  her  head  all  hid  in 
her  kirtle,  as  she  had  kneeled  two  years 
agone  on  t'other  side  o'  that  very  door, 
was  Mistress  Ruth  Racket ;  and  she  was 
a-sobbing  as  though  her  heart  would  break. 
And  while  I  stand  staring,  ere  I  could  find 


132  The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth. 

a  word  to  my  tongue,  comes  that  lass  o' 
mine  and  pushes  me  aside  like  as  though 
I  had  been  little  Marjory  Pebble — ha !  ha ! 
And  down  goes  she  on  her  knees  beside 
th'  lass,  and  gets  an  arm  about  her,  and 
presses  down  her  head,  all  hid  as  'tis  in 
her  kirtle,  against  her  breast,  and  she  saith 
to  her, 

"  What  troubles  thee  ?  Tell  Keren,  hon 
ey.  So  so  !  What  troubles  thee  ?  Tell 
Keren." 

And  from  beneath  her  kirtle  th'  poor 
jade  sobs  out,  "  He's  gone !  he's  gone !  he's 
gone !  They've  taken  him  to  work  on  th' 
big  seas— and  our  child  not  yet  born — and 
me  so  ailing ;  and,  oh  !  I  want  to  die  !  I 
want  to  die !" 

Then  saith  that  lass  o'  mine,  saith  she, 
"  Father,  do  thou  fetch  some  o'  th'  birch 
wine  out  o'  th'  cupboard  and  bring  it  to  me 
in  a  cup ;"  and  to  the  girl  she  saith, "  Come, 
then ;  come,  then,"  like  as  though  she  had 
been  coaxing  some  little  spring  lambkin  to 


The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth.  133 

follow  her  unto  its  dam ;  and  she  half  pulls 
and  half  carries  th'  wench  into  th'  house, 
and  seats  her  on  a  low  stool  i'  th'  chimney- 
corner,  and  kneels  down  aside  of  her.  And 
when  I  be  come  with  th'  drink,  she  takes 
the  cup  out  o'  my  hand,  and  makes  th' 
wench  drink  't,  holding  it  to  her  lips  with 
one  hand,  while  with  the  other  she  cossets 
her  hair  and  cheek.  And,  by-and-by,  see 
ing  myself  forgotten,  I  do  withdraw  into 
the  room  beyond,  and  wait  till  I  be  called, 
that  th'  lasses  may  have  't  out  together. 

Now,  Ruth's  folks  were  aye  so  poor  that 
scarce  could  they  keep  clothes  on  their 
backs  and  food  i'  their  bellies ;  and  it  hath 
some  time  occurred  to  me  how  that  the 
Lord  might  'a'  given  such  as  could  not 
provide  for  themselves  a  coat  o'  wool  or 
o'  hair  that  would  'a'  covered  their  bodies, 
after  the  manner  of  a  sheep  or  goat  —  the 
righteous  being  clad  i'  th'  first  fashion,  and 
the  wicked  after  th'  last. 

Well,  well,  I  must  on.      I  see  thou  art 


1 34  The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth. 

waxing  restless,  comrade.  Not  so  ?  Well, 
drink,  drink,  then,  that  I  may  feel  thou  art 
well  occupied  while  that  my  old  tongue 
wags. 

So  poor,  then,  were  Ruth's  folks  that  I 
said  to  myself,  said  I,  "  What  i'  th'  name 
o'  pity,"  so  saith  I  —  "what  i'  th'  name  o' 
pity  is  to  become  o'  the  poor  lass  ?"  But  I 
had  scarce  asked  myself  th'  question  when 
my  lass  answers  it  for  me. 

"  Father,"  saith  she,  a-coming  and  stand 
ing  afore  me,  with  the  empty  cup  turning 
on  her  long  fingers  — "  father,"  saith  she, 
keeping  those  gold-colored  eyes  o'  hers  on 
mine  (methinks  they  were  coined  o'  th' 
same  wedge  as  her  heart  o'  gold)  —  "fa 
ther,"  saith  she,  just  so,  "considering  all 
things,"  saith  she,  "  I'm  going  to  keep  th' 
lass  in  my  room  till  her  child  be  born,"  so 
saith  she. 

Then  saith  I,  pulling  her  down  into  my 
arms,  "  Lass,"  saith  I,  "  verily  do  I  believe 
that  not  only  is  every  hair  o'  thy  sweet  head 


The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth.  1 35 

numbered,  but  that  each  one  is  blessed  with 
a  separate  blessing !"  And  what  with  my 
love  for  her,  and  my  admiring  of  her  good 
ness,  and  my  pride  in  her,  and  what  with 
her  pity  for  the  poor  girl  in  th'  other  room, 
we  did  shed  enough  tears  between  us  to 
ha'  o'erflowed  th'  empty  cup  in  her  hands. 

So  she  held  me  about  th'  neck  with  both 
arms,  and  like  to  ha'  run  me  mad  with  kiss 
ing  th'  back  o'  my  neck  (for  I  was  e'er  one 
o'  your  ticklish  sort).  I  stood  it  brave 
ly,  however,  seeing  how  she  loved  me,  and 
kissed  her  too  whensoever  I  could  get 
a  chance  for  th'  tightness  o'  her  hugging. 
And  so  we  settled  it.  But  Mistress  Lem 
on  was  yet  to  be  consulted. 

Ready  enough  was  I  to  shift  that  job  on 
my  lass's  broad  shoulders  (seeing  as  how  a 
reputation  for  courage  with  his  wife  is  ne'er 
believed  o'  a  man,  at  any  rate,  and  as  how 
th'  wench  had  a  way  o'  managing  her  moth 
er  which  sure  none  could  'a'  had  that  were 
not  of  her  own  flesh).  And  that  night, 


1 36   The  Farrier  Lass  o  Piping  Pebworth. 

when  her  mother  was  returned  from  a 
round  o'  gossiping,  th'  lass  tells  her  all 
(having  i'  th'  mean  time  put  Ruth  to  bed 
atween  her  own  sheets).  Well,  ne'er  saw  I 
my  wife  in  such  a  rage. 

"  What !"  saith  she,  "  thou  hast  ta'en  it 
on  thyself  to  offer  my  bread  and  meat  to  a 
good-for-naught  hussy  as  ne'er  had  a  civil 
word  for  any  o'  us !  Thou  hast  given  her 
bed-room  under  my  roof  without  so  much 
as  c  by  your  leave !'  Thou  godless  hussy, 
thou  !  Where  be  th'  jade  ?  I  say,  where 
be  she  ?  Where  be  she  ?" 

"Where  thou  shalt  not  come  at  her  in 
thy  present  humor,  mother,"  saith  the  lass, 
standing  with  one  arm  reached  out  across 
the  door-way,  like  as  though  in  verity  she 
had  been  the  mother  and  her  dam  a  naugh 
ty  child. 

"  How  ?  Dost  word  me  ?  dost  word  me  ?" 
saith  my  wife.  "  How?  dost  take  any  stray 
cat  to  kitten  in  my  house  an'  then  word  me 
too  ?" — so  saith  she. 


The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth.   137 

Then  saith  th'  lass,  "  Well  can  I  under 
stand,"  saith  she,  "  how,  if  thou  canst  speak 
i'  this  fashion  o'  thy  sister's  child,  thou  canst 
also  speak  to  thy  own  as  sure  no  mother 
e'er  spoke  ere  this."  Then,  changing  all 
suddenly  her  tone,  and  dropping  down  her 
arm  from  the  door,"  Go  an  thou  like,"  saith 
she,  "  to  abuse  the  poor  creature  who  hath 
come  to  ask  thy  help  in  time  o'  trouble ; 
but  just  so  surely  as  thou  dost  turn  her  out 
o'  door  to  lie  i'  th'  straw  like  any  common 
callet,  just  so  sure  do  I  follow  her,  to  fare 
as  she  fares,  and  all  the  village  shall  know 
what  thou  hast  done." 

Then  for  some  minutes  did  they  twain 
stand  and  gaze  upon  one  another,  and  at 
last  down  flumps  my  wife  into  a  chair,  as 
though  she  would  break  it  in  pieces  for 
very  rage ;  but  being  waxed  sulky,  and  her 
own  wrath  cowed,  as  'twere,  by  her  daugh 
ter's  more  righteous  wrath,  she  saith  noth 
ing  more  of  't,  good  or  bad. 

In   three  weeks'  time   th'  child  is  born, 


1 38   The  Farrier  Lass  o  Piping  Pebworth. 

and  as  sound  and  as  pretty  a  babe  as  e'er 
I  clapt  eyes  on,  and  Keren  a-dangling  of 
him  as  natural  as  though  she  herself  had 
been  a  mother,  time  and  again. 

"  What  say'st  thou  now,  lass  ?"  quoth 
she.  "  Wilt  trust  Keren  after  this  ?" 

"  Is  he  sound,  verily  ?"  saith  the  poor 
little  dame,  looking  shyly  upon  him. 

"  Never  a  spot  so  big  as  the  splash  on 
a  guinea-flower!"  saith  Keren.  "And  ears 
like  sea-shells." 

So,  after  a-kissing  of  them  both,  and  th' 
top  o'  th'  babe's  head  (as  'twas  permitted 
me  to  do),  I  steals  out  and  leaves  them  to 
gether. 

Well,  ne'er  saw  thou  a  child  grow  as  did 
that  child.  Meseemed  he  sprouted  like 
corn  after  a  rain;  and  in  five  months  a 
was  waxed  so  strong  a  could  stand  on  's 
feet  a-holding  to  his  mother's  kirtle.  But, 
strange  to  say  or  not,  as  thou  wilt  have  't, 
he  did  seem  to  love  Keren  more  than  he 
did  th'  mother  that  bore  him,  a-crying  for 


The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth.   1 39 

her  did  she  but  so  much  as  turn  her  back, 
and  not  sleeping  unless  that  she  would 
croon  his  lullabies  to  him.  Mayhap  it  was 
because  her  strong  arms  and  round  bosom 
made  a  more  cosey  nest  for  him  than  did 
th'  breast  and  arms  o'  his  little  dam ;  but 
so  was  't,  and  nearly  all  o'  her  time  did  th' 
lass  give  to  him.  Neither  did  it  seem  to 
rouse  aught  o'  jealousy  in  Ruth's  heart: 
she  was  too  busy  a-looking  for  th'  return 
o'  's  father  to  bother  her  pretty  pate  o'er- 
much  concerning  him.  And  she  would  sit 
and  talk  o'  Robin,  and  o'  Robin's  good 
ness,  and  o'  Robin's  sweet  ways  and  words 
and  doings,  until  I  thought  sometimes  my 
poor  lass's  heart  would  just  break  within 
her,  if  't  had  not  been  broken  already  these 
two  years.  And  one  day,  as  she  kneels 
beside  th'  cradle  —  Ruth  having  gone  to 
see  her  folks  for  th'  day — I  come  in  un 
known  to  her,  and  stand  to  watch  th'  pret-> 
ty  sight.  There  kneels  she,  and  Ruth's 
red  shawl  o'er  her  head  to  please  th'  child 


140  The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth. 

(Keren  ne'er  had  any  bright  colors  o'  her 
own  those  days) — there  kneels  she,  I  say, 
beside  the  cradle,  and  kittles  him  with  her 
nimble  fingers,  and  digs  him  i'  th'  ribs  af 
ter  a  fashion  that  would  sure  'a'  run  me 
crazy  (though  it  hath  ne'er  yet  been  proven 
what  a  young  babe  cannot  endure  at  the 
hands  o'  women),  and  punches  and  pokes 
and  worries  him,  for  all  th'  world  like  a 
kitten  worrying  a  flower.  And  he,  lying 
on  his  back,  kicks  with  both  feet  at  her 
face,  and  winds  all  his  hands  in  her  long 
hair,  and  laughs,  and  bubbles,  and  makes 
merry,  after  the  fashion  o'  a  spring  stream 
among  many  stones.  And  by -and -by  a 
change  falls  o'er  her,  and  she  waxes  very 
solemn,  and  sits  down  on  th'  floor  by  th' 
edge  o'  th'  cradle,  with  one  arm  upon  't 
and  her  head  on  her  hand,  and  she  looks 
at  the  babe.  In  vain  doth  he  clutch  at  her 
hair  and  at  her  kerchief,  and  reach,  with 
pretty  broken  murmurings,  as  of  water 
through  crowding  roots,  after  his  little  bare 


The  Farrier  Lass  o  Piping  Pebworth.  141 

toes:  never  so  much  as  a  motion  makes 
she  towards  him.  But  at  last  up  gets  she 
to  her  knees,  and  takes  him  fiercely  into 
her  strong  hands,  and  holds  him  off  at 
arm's-length,  looking  at  him ;  and  she  saith 
in  a  deep  voice  (such  as  I  had  not  heard 
her  use  for  two  years),  saith  she,  "  For  that 
thou  art  not  mine,"  saith  she,  "  I  hate  thee ; 
but — "  and  here  came  a  change  o'er  all  her 
face  and  voice  and  manner,  like  as  when 
April  doth  suddenly  wake  in  the  midst  o' 
a  wintry  day  in  springtide — "but,"  saith 
she,  "  for  that  thou  art  his,  I  love  thee !" 
And  she  took  him  to  her  bosom,  and  bow 
ed  down  her  head  over  him  so  that  he  was 
hidden  all  in  her  long  hair;  but  the  bright 
shawl  covered  it,  so  that,  what  with  her 
stooping  and  the  hiding  of  her  tresses, 
a  body  coming  in  suddenly  at  the  door 
might  'a'  easily  mistaken  her  for  Ruth. 

It  was  thus  with  th'  man  who  at  that 
moment  strode  past  me  and  caught  up 
child  and  woman  into  his  embrace.  "  I 


142   The  Farrier  Lass  o  Piping  Pebworth. 

have  come  back  to  thee,"  he  said — "  I  have 
come  back  to  thee.  Look  up,  wife  !  Ruth, 
look  up !"  But  when  she  did  look  up,  and 
he  saw  her  face  as  white  as  morning,  and 
her  hair  as  black  as  night,  and  her  tall 
figure  like  to  a  young  elm-tree — ay,  when 
she  looked  up,  ne'er  saw  I  a  man  not  dead 
seem  so  like  death.  He  drops  down  his 
arms  from  about  them,  as  though  smitten 
from  behind  by  a  sword,  and  he  staggers 
and  leans  against  th'  table,  and  lets  fall  his 
head  upon  his  breast,  staring  straight  in 
front  o'  him.  But  she  stands  looking  upon 
him.  And  I  got  me  out  with  all  speed ; 
so  ne'er  knew  I  more  o'  what  passed  be 
tween  'em,  saving  that  he  did  take  away 
Ruth  with  him  th'  next  day,  and  she  as 
happy  as  a  bird  whose  mate  hath  come 
back  to  't  with  the  springtide.  But  a  knew 
how  that  my  lass  had  taken  his  wife  into 
her  bed,  and  nursed  her  through  her  sick 
ness  night  and  day,  after  the  hard  words 
he  had  spoken  unto  her  and  the  ill  names 


The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth.  143 

he  had  called  her.  And  that  was  all  I 
cared  to  know.  He  had  set  th'  iron  in 
my  lass's  heart,  and  now  'twas  in  his  own ; 
and  for  th'  rust,  it  did  but  hurt  him  more. 
Ay,  ay,  comrade,  thou  knowest  what  I  do 
mean. 

Well,  the  winter  passed,  and  spring 
came  on  again,  and  'twas  in  the  May  o' 
that  year  that  I  did  break  my  hammer-arm. 
God  above  us  only  knows  what  would  'a' 
befallen  us  had  't  not  been  for  my  Keren. 
Wilt  believe  't  ?  (but  then  I  think  thou'lt 
believe  a'most  anything  o'  that  lass  o'  mine 
now  —  eh,  comrade?) — th'  lass  did  set  to 
work,  and  in  two  weeks'  time  a  was  as 
good  a  farrier  as  was  e'er  her  daddy  afore 
her.  Bodykins,  man !  thou  shouldst  'a' 
seen  her  at  it:  clad  from  throat  to  feet 
she  was  in  a  leathern  apron,  looking  as  like 
mine  own  as  though  th'  mare's  skin  where 
of  mine  was  fashioned  had,  as  'twere,  foal 
ed  a  smaller  one  for  th'  lass — ha  !  ha  ! — and 
her  sleeves  rolled  up  from  her  brown  arms, 


144  The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth. 

and  th'  cords  a-standing  out  on  them  like 
th'  veins  in  a  horse's  shoulder.  And  so 
would  she  stand,  and  work  th'  bellows  at 
th'  forge,  until,  what  with  th'  red  light  from 
the  fire  on  her  face,  and  on  her  hair,  and 
on  her  bare  arms,  I  was  minded  o'  th' 
angel  that  walked  i'  the  fiery  furnace  with 
th'  men  in  holy  writ.  And  when  a  pound 
ed  away  at  a  shoe,  and  her  young  arm 
going  like  a  flail  —  chink,  chank — chink, 
chank — and  th'  white  spatters  o'  hot  iron 
flying  this  way  and  that  from  th'  anvil,  me- 
seemed  'twas  as  though  Dame  Venus  (for 
thou  knowest  how  in  th'  masque  twelve 
year  gone  this  Yuletide  'twas  shown  as 
how  a  great  dame  called  Venus  did  wed 
wi'  a  farrier  called  Vulcan  —  I  wot  thou 
rememberest  ?) — as  though  Dame  Venus 
had  taken  away  her  hammer  from  her 
goodman  Vulcan  to  do  's  work  for  him. 
By  my  troth,  'twas  a  sight  to  make  a  pict 
ure  of — that  'twas,  comrade. 

Well,  ne'er  saw  I  such  trouble  as  that 


The  Farrier  Lass  o  Piping  Pebworth.  145 

arm  gave  me  (and  't  has  ne'er  been  strong 
since).  First  'twould  not  knit,  and  then 
when  't  did  'twas  all  wrong,  and  had  to  be 
broken  and  set  o'er  again.  But  th'  lass 
ne'er  gave  out  once.  Late  and  early,  fair 
weather  or  foul,  a  was  at  th'  forge ;  and  a 
came  to  be  known  for  as  good  a  smith  as 
there  was  in  all  Warwickshire.  But,  for 
that  none  had  e'er  heard  tell  o'  a  woman 
at  such  work,  or  for  some  other  reason, 
they  did  come  to  call  her,  moreover, "  The 
Farrier  Lass  o'  Piping  Pebworth." 

One  day,  as  we  sat  i'  th'  door  o'  th'  shop, 
a-resting,  and  talking  together — after  a 
way  we  had  with  us  even  when  she  was  a 
little  lass — there  rides  up  a  young  gallant, 
all  dressed  out  in  velvet  and  galloon,  and 
a  feather  in  's  hat,  and  long  curls  hanging 
about  his  shoulders.  Oh  ay,  a  was  bonny 
enough  to  look  upon.  So  a  draws  rein 
at  th'  door.  And  saith  he, 

"Art   thou    th'  Farrier    Lass    o'  Piping 
Pebworth  ?"  saith  he. 
10 


146   The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth. 

Saith  she,  arising  to  her  feet,  and  standing 
with  crossed  arms  like  any  man — saith  she, 

"  Folks  call  me  so,"  saith  she.  "  But  my 
name  is  Keren  Lemon." 

"  A  sour  name  for  so  sweet  a  lass,"  saith 
th'  gallant. 

"  Would  thou  hadst  sweetened  that  old 
jest  with  some  new  wit !"  quoth  she. 

"  Thou  art  sharp  o'  tongue,"  saith  he. 

"  I  shoe  horses  with  my  arms,  not  with 
my  tongue,"  saith  she. 

"  As  I  live,  a  witty  jade !"  quoth  he. 
"  Thou  dost  much  amuse  me,  maiden." 

"  My  wit  was  not  fashioned  any  more 
for  thy  amusement  than  for  the  shoeing  o' 
thy  horse,"  quoth  she.  "  So,  if  thou  dost 
not  purpose  to  have  him  shod,  ride  on !" 
saith  she. 

Then  saith  he,  to  himself,  as  'twere, 
"  Verily,"  saith  he,  "  they  should  call  thee 
the  harrier  lass,  for  thou  hast  run  down 
and  found  my  manners  when  that  old 
hounds  have  failed."  And  to  her  he  saith, 


The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth.  147 

"  I  do  purpose  to  have  my  horse  shod, 
maiden ;  and  I  cry  thee  pardon  for  having 
given  thee  offence." 

"  It  is  easier  to  give  offence  than  par 
don,"  saith  she.  "  Howbeit,  thou  art  par 
doned.  Say  no  more."  Whereupon  she 
sets  to  work  and,  taking  th'  horse's  foot 
atween  her  knees,  falls  to  filing  his  hoof 
in  such  wise  that  I  could  not  'a'  done  bet 
ter  in  her  place,  though  the  Queen  should 
ask  me  to  sup  afterwards  at  St.  James's. 
But  the  stranger  could  not  hold  his 
tongue ;  and  when  he  saw  her  working  th' 
bellows,  and  a-making  of  th'  shoe,  and  th' 
way  she  swung  th'  great  hammer,  "  By  my 
troth,"  saith  he,  "  I  would  I  could  paint 
thee  as  Sally  Mander  to  give  to  th'  Queen," 
saith  he. 

Then  saith  my  lass,  "  I  know  not  of  any 
wench  called  Sally  Mander,"  saith  she,  a- 
burning  of  th'  horse's  hoof  with  th'  hot 
shoe ;  "  but  if  she  consorts  familiarly  with 
such  as  be  above  her,"  so  saith  she,  "  me- 


148   The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth. 

thinks  'tis  as  well  for  both  o'  us  that  I 
know  her  not,"  saith  she — every  word  o't 
just  as  I  tell  thee. 

Then  saith  the  gallant,  clapping  hand 
to  thigh,  so  that  it  made  such  a  sound  as 
when  a  young  child  is  trounced,  "  By  my 
troth,"  saith  he,  "  an  thy  brows  be  not 
worthy  o'  a  coronet,  ne'er  saw  I  any  that 
merited  to  wear  one.  What  wouldst  thou 
if  thou  wert  a  lady,  lass  ?" 

She  saith,  a-rolling  up  of  her  sleeves  a 
little  tighter,  and  looking  up  at  him  as  he 
sate  again  upon  his  horse,  "  Meanest  thou 
if  I  were  the  wife  o'  a  lord  ?"  saith  she. 

"  Even  so,"  saith  he,  laughing.  "  Verily 
thou  hast  come  at  my  meaning  with  a  com 
mendable  quickness.  Well,  and  if  thou 
wert  the  wife  o'  a  lord,  what  wouldst  thou 
do?" 

Then  saith  she,  speaking  very  slowly, 
and  crossing  of  her  arms  again  upon  her 
breast — saith  she, 

"  I  would  bring  up  such  sons    as  were 


The  Farrier  Lass  o  Piping  Pebworth.   149 

born  to  me  to  behave  worthily  o'  their 
station  in  life,  and  not  to  forget  their  man 
hood  by  speaking  with  insolence  unto  such 
honest  maids  as  had  never  offered  them 
affront."  Whereupon  she  did  up  with  her 
kit  o'  tools,  and  pass  by  me  into  th'  forge ; 
and  th'  man  rode  on  with  a  reddened 
visage. 

But  it  befell  only  two  days  later  that  a 
came  again  to  th'  forge,  his  horse  having 
cast  another  shoe. 

And  again  th'  lass  sets  all  to  right  for 
him,  he  keeping  a  civil  tongue  in  's  head 
this  time ;  and  o'  that  we  thought  naught 
one  way  or  th'  other.  But  when  a  comes 
a  third  time,  and  yet  a  fourth  and  a  fifth 
and  a  sixth,  "Father,"  saith  th'  lass— "fa 
ther,"  saith  she,  "  this  must  be  stopt,"  saith 
she. 

"  Ay,  verily,"  saith  I.  "  But  how  wilt  do 
't?"  saith  I.  ' 

"  I'll  do  't,  never  fear,"  saith  she. 

And  a  did,  comrade.     Ha  !  ha !     I'd  trust 


1 50   The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth. 

that  wench  to  make  Satan  keep  to  heel 
like  any  well-broke  puppy.  'Twas  in  this 
way.  The  next  time  th'  gallant  comes  rid 
ing  up  (that  being  th'  seventh  time  in  all, 
ye  mind) — well,  the  next  time  up  comes 
riding  he,  and  he  saith  to  her,  saith  he,  "  I 
have  come  to  ask  thy  service  yet  again, 
damsel,"  saith  he;  "but  Merrylegs  hath 
cast  another  shoe." 

Then  saith  th'  lass  —  ha!  ha! — every 
word  as  I  tell  thee,  comrade  —  saith  she, 
"  Methinks,  my  lord,  if  my  work  hold  no 
better  than  that — •  methinks,"  saith  she, 
"  'twere  as  well  thou  went  for  th'  shoeing  o' 
thy  horse  to  Timothy  Makeshift,  as  lives 
in  Mangold  Lane,"  saith  she.  "  For  if  it 
come  to  th'  ears  o'  others  how  that  I  will 
shoe  a  horse  one  day,  and  th'  next  how  that 
he  will  cast  th'  shoe — if  it  so  be  known," 
saith  she,  "  no  more  custom  will  I  get  to 
keep  my  father  and  mother  in  their  old 


age- 


doth  he  leap  down  from  his  horse, 


The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth.  1 5 1 

and  he  doffs  his  hat  as  though  my  lass  had 
been  any  fine  lady;  and  quoth  he, 

"  Well  and  justly  hast  thou  spoken ;  and 
I  do  stand  confessed  of  my  fault.  But, 
maiden,  thou  wast  not  born  unto  th'  life 
thou  leadest ;  and  here  in  thy  presence  I 
do  ask  thy  father  to  bestow  upon  me  thy 
hand.  I  am  Sir  Dagonet  Balfour,  of  Bal- 
four  Hall ;  and  if  thou  art  willing  I  will 
make  thee  my  lady." 

Now,  I  was  struck  dumb  as  though  my 
tongue  had  jumped  forth  o'  my  mouth,  and 
never  a  blessed  thing  could  I  do  saving 
stare,  comrade.  But  that  lass  o'  mine — 
that  lass  o'  mine,  comrade — she  stands  and 
looks  at  him,  and  never  so  much  as  a  glint 
o'  red  in  her  face.  And  saith  she,  "  My 
lord,"  saith  she,  "  if  that  thou  meanest  what 
thou  hast  said,  thou  hast  forgotten  thine 
estate  and  not  remembered  mine.  Since 
God  hath  not  made  me  a  lady,  methinks  it 
is  not  in  the  power  o'  one  o'  His  creatures 
so  to  do.  But  I  do  thank  thee  for  seek- 


152    The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth. 

ing  to  honor  me,  and  wish  thee  joy  when 
thou  shalt  take  in  wedlock  some  high 
born  maiden." 

Then  saith  he,  "  An  I  wed  not  thee,  ne'er 
will  I  be  wed.  What!  dost  thou  think  I 
can  look  on  in  patience  and  see  a  woman 
such  as  thou  following  the  trade  of  a  far 
rier?" 

Then  saith  she,  "  If  Jesus  Christ  fol 
lowed  th'  trade  o'  a  carpenter,"  saith  she, 
"  sure,"  saith  she,  "  Keren  Lemon  can  fol 
low  th*  trade  o'  a  farrier,"  saith  she — every 
blessed  word  as  I  tell  thee,  comrade.  And 
no  more  would  she  have  to  do  with  him, 
but  got  her  into  th'  forge  and  left  him 
standing  there. 

Well,  thou  might  'a'  thought  that  was  th' 
end  o't.  Not  a  bit  —  not  a  bit,  comrade. 
Th'  knight  would  be  a-riding  up  at  all 
times  and  in  all  weather,  and  somehow  't 
gets  out  i'  th'  village  (though  not  through 
my  lass,  I  warrant  ye)  as  how  he  doth  in 
verity  seek  to  espouse  my  Keren.  Well, 


The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth.   153 

o'  all  th'  tirrits  and  to-do's  as  e'er  you  heard 
on! 

Methought  when  Mistress  Lemon  found 
out  that  th'  girl  had  refused  th'  gallant's 
offer  th'  house  would  be  a  tighter  fit  for  us 
three  than  its  shell  for  an  unhatched  chick. 
'Twas  worry,  worry,  worry,  from  morn  till 
night,  and  from  night  till  morn  it  was  wor 
ry,  worry,  worry,  till  I  scarce  knew  whether 
'twould  be  better  to  murder  my  wife  and 
hang  for  't,  or  leave  her  alone  and  live  with 
her. 

"Th'  hussy!"  quoth  she— "  th'  ungrate 
ful  hussy !  a  ought  to  be  tossed  in  a  blan 
ket,"  quoth  she,  "  and  thou  along  with  her, 
thou  jack -pudding,  thou  ravelling!"  quoth 
she. 

"  If  I  be  a  jack-pudding,"  saith  I,  "  I  ha' 
more  descendants  than  most  such,"  saith  I. 

"Yea,"  quoth  she,  "verily,"  quoth  she; 
"  and  all  nine  o'  th'  lads  be  jacks,"  saith  she, 
"  and  th'  wench  as  very  a  pudding  as  e'er 
fell  to  pieces  for  want  o'  being  held  togeth- 


1 54   The  Farrier  Lass  o  Piping  Pebworth. 

er,"  saith  she.  "Out  on  ye  both!  I'm 
done  with  ye !" 

"  For  that,  God  be  praised !"  saith  I,  and 
left  ere  she  could  answer. 

But  one  day  as  I  sate  i'  th'  kitchen,  a-cos- 
seting  o'  my  lame  arm  as  though  't  had 
been  a  babe,  I  hear  a  sound  o'  wheels  and 
a  clatter  o'  horses'  hoofs ;  and,  lo !  there  be 
a  chariot  pulled  up  afore  the  door,  with 
four  gray  horses  a-making  play  with  their 
trappings,  and  a  coachman,  all  wig  and 
gilding,  a-sitting  on  th'  box.  And  ere  a 
could  move,  out  steps  a  fine  dame,  with  her 
hair  all  in  hillocks,  as  'twere,  and  a  paling 
o'  lace  round  about  her  head,  like  as  't  had 
been  a  flower-garden,  and  a  farthingale  to 
'a'  covered  th'  big  malt-pot  with  as  little 
to-do  as  a  hen  covers  an  egg.  And  up 
comes  she  to  th'  door,  and  her  tire-woman 
a-holding  of  her  robes,  and  two  footmen 
going  before,  and  in  she  comes — like  as 
though  Riches  and  Death  had  a'  th'  same 
right  to  enter  a  poor  man's  house  without 


The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pcbworth.   155 

knocking.  And  saith  she  to  me,  saith  she, 
a-filling  up  o'  the  room  with  her  finery,  like 
a  cuckoo  ruffling  out  its  feathers  in  another 
bird's  nest,  saith  she, 

"  Be  this  th'  cottage  o'  Hurnfrey  Lemon 
th'  farrier  ?"  saith  she. 

"  It  be  so ;  and  I  be  he,"  saith  I. 

"And  be  thou  th'  father  o'  th'  wench 
they  call  th'  Farrier  Lass  o'  Piping  Peb- 
worth?"  saith  she. 

"  I  be,  an'  proud  o't,"  say  I,  a-beginning 
to  think  that  she  might  'a'  knocked  at  th' 
door,  for  all  her  greatness. 

"Where's  th'  lass?"  saith  she,  as  she 
might  'a'  said  "  Where's  my  glove  ?" 

Then  saith  I,  "  Madam,"  saith  I,  "  most 
like  she's  gone  about  her  business,"  saith  I. 

"  My  good  man,"  saith  she,  after  a  fash 
ion  that  did  cause  me  to  feel  aught  but 
good  —  "my  good  man,"  saith  she,  "dost 
thou  know  to  whom  thou  speakest  ?" 

"  Verily,"  saith  I,  "  thou  art  ahead  o'  me 
there,  madam." 


156   The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth. 

"  Boor,"  saith  she,  "  I  am  the  Lady  o' 
Balfour  Hall." 

"  An'  so  could  my  lass  'a'  been,  had  she 
willed  it,"  saith  I ;  but  ere  I  could  further 
forget  myself,  in  comes  Keren  by  another 
door,  and  she  saith, 

"  Father,  do  thou  go  out,  and  leave  me 
to  speak  with  this  lady."  Then  to  th' 
dame  she  saith,  "  Your  ladyship,"  saith  she, 
"  I  am  Keren  Lemon,  that  be  called  th' 
Farrier  Lass.  What  wouldst  thou  with 
me?" 

Then  I  got  me  out  o'  th'  room,  but  not 
out  o'  hearing  distance;  and  this  is  what 
followed : 

"  I  have  heard,"  saith  th'  dame,  "  these 
reports  concerning  my  son  Sir  Dagonet 
and  thee,  and,  to  my  sorrow,  I  find  upon 
inquiry,"  saith  she,  "  that  they  be  true. 
Moreover,  though  it  doth  shame  me  to 
the  dust  to  confess  it,  I  have  had  an  inter 
view  with  my  son  Sir  Dagonet,"  so  saith 
she — every  word  o't  as  I  tell  thee — "  and 


The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth.   157 

he  is  determined  in  his  purpose  o'  ruining 
his  life  and  th'  happiness  o'  his  mother. 
Therefore  I  have  come  to  thee,  to  ask 
that  thou  persistest  in  the  course  which 
thou  hast  begun,"  saith  she.  "  And  here," 
saith  she,  "  is  gold  to  hold  thy  tongue  con 
cerning  my  visit  unto  thee."  And  there 
with  she  did  count  down  ten  broad  gold 
pieces  upon  th'  kitchen  table.  "  I  must 
also  ask  thee,"  then  continued  she,  ere  my 
lass  could  answer  her,  "  to  allow  me  to  re 
main  under  thy  roof  until  my  carriage  be 
returned  from  th'  other  end  o'  the  village, 
where  it  hath  been  sent  with  my  tire-wom 
an  to  purchase  some  ribbon  to  tie  my 
parrot  to  's  perch." 

Never  a  word  saith  my  lass,  but  she  goes 
to  th'  door  and  opens  it,  and  lifting  up  her 
voice,  she  halloos  to  a  little  ragged  urchin 
who  is  at  some  spot  on  th'  other  side  o'  th' 
street ;  and  he  being  come  as  fast  as  his 
little  shanks  would  bring  him,  she  bids  him 
enter,  and  taking  him  up  in  her  arms,  she 


158   The  Farrier  Lass  rf  Piping  Pebworth. 

lifts  him  up  so  that  a  can  reach  th'  gold 
on  th'  table,  and  saith  sht, 

"  Thou'rt  not  o'er-clean  to  touch,  my 
good  little  mouse,"  saith  she,  "  but  thou'rt 
cleaner  than  that  stuff  thou  seest.  There, 
lad,  that's  for  thee,  if  an  thou'lt  run  to  th' 
other  end  o'  th'  village  and  bid  them  return 
at  once  with  my  lady  Balfour's  carnage," 
so  saith  she.  Then,  th'  lad  having  stuffed 
all  's  doublet  with  th'  gold,  she  sets  him 
on  's  feet,  and  off  a  scuttles  on  th'  best- 
paid  errand  e'er  chanced  since  th'  world 
began.  And  rny  lass,  having  courtesied  to 
the  thunder-stricken  dame,  gets  her  outside 
(where  I  go  nigh  to  smothering  her  with 
kisses),  and  leaves  her  ladyship  in  posses 
sion  o'  th'  kitchen. 

Well,  comrade,  right  sure  am  I  that 
thou  dost  think  that  was  the  end  on 
't.  Not  a  bit.  Sir  Dagonet  did  himself 
come  to  th'  cottage  th'  very  next  day  to 
see  th'  lass,  and  they  had  many  words 
together,  and  at  last  he  did  accuse  her 


The  Farrier  Lass  o  Piping  Pebworth.   159 

o'  false  pride  and  proud  humility.  And 
saith  he, 

"  Wouldst  thou  make  misery  for  the  man 
who  loves  thee  best  of  all  the  world,  merely 
to  satisfy  a  notion  o'  thine  own  ?  Great 
ness  and  goodness,"  saith  he,  "  dwell  in  the 
heads  and  hearts  o'  mankind,  not  in  their 
birth  or  purses.  I  do  ask  thee,  with  all 
respect,  to  be  my  wife,  and  I  am  prepared 
to  face  th'  anger  o'  my  mother  and  o'  th' 
Queen.  Ay,"  saith  he,  his  face  gone  red 
as  a  girl's,  and  comes  nigh  to  her — "  ay, 
maiden,"  saith  he,  "  I  am  even  ready  to 
seek  th'  new  country  with  thee  as  my  wife, 
and  to  leave  title  and  lands  and  Queen  and 
mother  behind  me." 

Then  saith  she  —  and  I  had  not  seen 
tears  in  her  eyes  for  many  a  day — 

"  My  lord,"  saith  she,  "  well  and  nobly 
hast  thou  spoken,  and  with  all  my  soul 
do  I  honor  thee  for  it,  and  I  thank  thee 
with  all  my  heart  and  soul.  But,  my  lord, 
even  were  there  not  thy  rank  and  position 


160   The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Peb worth. 

atween  us,  there  is  atween  us,"  saith  she, 
"  which  would  hold  us  as  far  apart  as  the 
sea  doth  hold  this  England  which  we  live 
in  and  th'  new  country  o'  which  thou  didst 
speak.  For,"  saith  she  —  and  she  speaks 
in  a  steady  voice,  howbeit  'tis  very  low, 
and  she  keeps  her  sun-like  eyes  on  his — 
"  for,  my  lord,"  saith  she,  "  all  the  love  that 
was  mine  to  give  hath  been  another  man's 
these  many  years." 

Then  saith  he  never  another  word,  but 
bends  his  knee  and  kisses  her  long  brown 
hand  as  though  't  had  been  th'  Queen's; 
and  he  gets  him  from  th'  cottage. 

Now,  two  more  years  \vere  sped  since 
that  Ruth  had  left  us,  and  sometimes 
would  we  hear  through  friends  o'  th'  little 
lad  and  's  mother  and  father,  and  always 
was  Ruth  a-sending  of  pretty  messages  to 
Keren — her  love,  and  her  thanks,  and  how 
happy  she  was,  and  th'  boy  so  like  his  fa 
ther — and  more  than  I  remember. 

A  full  year  had  th'  lass  been  at  work  in 


The  Farrier  Lass  o  Piping  Pepworth.  161 

my  shop,  and  my  arm  no  more  fit  to  ham 
mer  than  afore.  So  I  looks  about  to  get 
a  lad  to  help  her  in  her  work,  seeing  as 
'twere  too  much  for  one  wench.  And, 
Lord !  th'  trouble  I  had !  Ten  lads  did  I 
try,  one  right  after  th'  other;  and  one 
would  be  saucy,  and  another  dull,  and  an 
other  would  take  't  into  his  pumpkin  head 
to  fall  in  love  wi'  th'  lass ;  and  all  o'  'em 
lazy.  But,  God-a-mercy!  how's  a  man  to 
tell  a  lazy  lad  till  he  ha'  tried  him  ? — unless 
it  be  old  Butter.  Ha!  ha!  I  ha  just 
minded  me  o'  th'  way  he  used  to  treat  th' 
lads  that  came  to  Amhurste  to  hire  for  un- 
der-gardeners.  He  would  stand  with  's 
owlish  old  visage  a-set  on  's  hoe-handle,  for 
all  th'  world  like  a  fantastic  head  carved 
out  o'  a  turnip  and  set  on  a  stick,  and  a 
would  let  th'  lad  go  on  with  's  story  o'  how 
Dame  This  commended  him  for  that,  and 
o'  how  Dame  That  commended  him  for 
this,  and  o'  how  a  had  worked  under  my 
lord  So-and-So's  head-gardener  and  in  my 
ii 


1 62    The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth. 

lady  So-and-So's  own  hot -houses;  and 
when  a  had  got  through,  never  a  word 
would  old  Butter  say,  but  a  would  just  step 
round  behind  th'  lad,  as  solemn  as  a  grave- 
digger  on  a  cold  day,  and  a  would  lift  up 
th'  tail  o'  's  doublet  and  look  at  th'  seat  o' 
's  breeches.  And  if  they  were  fairly  worn 
a  would  hire  th'  lad ;  but  if  an  they  were 
much  worn  a  would  say,  "  No  work  dost 
thou  get  from  me,  my  lad,"  would  a  say, 
"thou  sittest  down  too  often  to  work  for 
Anthony  Butter" — so  would  a  say — every 
word  o't  just  as  I  ha'  told  thee.  Ha !  ha ! 
And  all  the  time  as  sober  as  a  coroner 
inspecting  a  corse.  Ha !  ha !  ha !  Me- 
thinks  I  can  see  him  now — th'  old  zany. 

Well,  well,  a  was  a  good  man,  was  An 
thony  Butter;  and  if  a  was  a  bit  puffed  up 
with  's  own  importance,  a's  charity  ne'er 
got  in  a  like  condition  that  it  did  not  bring 
forth  some  kind  act. 

Well,  th'  months  swung  round,  and  'twas 
nigh  to  Martlemas  in  that  same  year,  and 


The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth.  163 

one  day  as  I  sat  i'  th'  forge  door,  a-swear- 
ing  roundly  to  myself  concerning  my  lame 
arm,  and  how  that  'twould  not  mend,  up 
comes  galloping  a  man,  like  one  distraught, 
and  a  child  on  th'  saddle  afore  him,  and  a 
flings  himself  down  with  th'  child  in  's 
arms  (making  no  shift  whate'er  to  hold 
th'  horse,  which  gallops  on  with  th'  reins 
swinging),  and  a  cries  out,  a-setting  of  th' 
child  on  my  knee — a  cries  out, 

"  For  God's  sake,  help  me !  My  child 
hath  been  bit  by  a  mad  dog !  Help  me  in 
some  way,  for  th'  love  of  God !" 

And  I  saw  that  'twas  Robert  Racket 
that  crouched  and  quivered  at  my  knee 
like  a  hurt  hound,  and  th'  child  as  like  to 
him  as  one  leaf  on  a  tree  is  to  th'  other. 
But  ere  I  could  do  or  say  aught,  comes 
that  lass  o'  mine,  and  ups  with  th'  babe  in 
her  arms,  and  he  roaring  as  lustily  as  any 
bull-calf  with  th'  wound  in  's  little  brown 
arm,  and  she  sees  where  the  beast  hath 
bitten  him.  Then  sets  she  him  down 


1 64  The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth. 

again  on  my  lap,  and  runs  and  fetches  a 
bar  o'  iron  and  heats  it  i'  th'  forge  till  'tis 
white-hot,  and  all  th'  time  th'  poor  father 
a-sobbing,  and  kissing  of  th'  babe,  and  call 
ing  on  me  to  help  him,  like  as  though  I 
were  God  Almighty.  And  while  he  was 
so  doing,  and  the  babe  like  to  burst  with 
weeping,  and  I  gone  mad  with  not  know 
ing  what  to  be  at,  comes  that  wench,  com 
rade,  and  jerks  up  th'  babe,  and  sets  th' 
white-hot  metal  in  's  soft  flesh. 

Ay,  comrade,  a  did,  and  a  held  it  there 
till  where  th'  dog's  fangs  had  been  was 
burned  as  black  as  th'  anvil.  And  then, 
when  'tis  done,  and  th'  babe  again  upon  's 
feet,  and  we  two  for  praising  and  blessing 
o'  her,  down  drops  she  all  in  a  heap  on  th' 
floor  atween  us,  like  a  hawk  that  hath  been 
smitten  in  mid -heaven.  Then  'twas,  com 
rade,  that  th'  babe  was  left  to  endure  his 
pain  as  best  he  might ;  never  thought  more 
did  's  father  give  him  that  day;  but  he 
runs  and  lifts  th'  lass  in  's  strong  arms,  and 


The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth.  165 

bears  her  out  into  th'  fresh  air,  and  he  calls 
her  his  "dear,"  and  his  "own,"  and  "his  life," 
and  his  "  Keren,"  till,  had  't  not  been  for  my 
lass's  coming  back  to  life,  I  would  'a'  struck 
him  on  th'  mouth  for  a-speaking  so  unto  her, 
and  he  th'  husband  o'  another  woman. 

But  no  sooner  opes  she  her  eyes  than  he 
hath  both  her  hands  hid  in  one  o'  his,  and 
close  against  his  breast,  and  she  lying  back 
in  's  arms  as  though  she  were  any  chrisom 
child,  and  her  big  eyes  wide  on  his,  and  he 
saith  to  her, 

"  Lass !  lass !"  saith  he,  "  I  ha'  come  to 
marry  thee,  an  thou  wilt  have  me,"  quoth 
he.  "  I  ha'  come  to  marry  thee ;  and  may 
God  bless  thee  for  saving  th'  child !" 

Then  did  I  understand ;  but  she  saith, 
with  her  great  eyes  not  moving — saith  she 
— only  one  word — "  Ruth  ?"  saith  she,  even 
so,  once,  low  like  that — "  Ruth  ?" 

"  Ay,  lass,  I  know,"  he  saith  unto  her.  "  I 
know,"  he  saith.  "  But  all's  well  with  Ruth. 
Ruth  is  in  heaven." 


1 66   The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth. 

Then  saith  she,  while  a  light  leaps  out  o' 
her  tearful  eyes,  like  as  when  the  sun  doth 
shine  suddenly  through  April  rain  —  saith 
she,  as  she  were  breathing  her  life  into  th' 
words, 

"  Methinks  I  be  there  too." 

And  also  did  I  understand  her,  how  that 
she  meant  that  to  be  lying  in  th'  arms  o' 
him  she  loved,  after  all  those  weary  years, 
was  like  being  in  heaven ;  but  he  questions 
her. 

"How,  lass?"  saith  he.  "Where  dost 
thou  think  thou  art?  Thou  art  in  thy  true 
love's  arms,"  saith  he. 

"  Ay,  there  is  heaven,"  she  saith. 

And  I  stole  away  to  get  th'  babe  some 
kickshaws  i'  th'  village,  that  they  twain 
might  be  alone  together. 

Well,  well,  all  that  was  two  year  ago, 
comrade — two  year  ago ;  and  now  that  lass 
o'  mine  hath  a  babe  o'  her  own,  and  as  val 
iant  a  rogue  as  ever  bellowed.  Thou  must 
come  and  sup  with  us  to-night.  Na,  na,  I'll 


The  Farrier  Lass  d  Piping  Pebworth.   167 

take  no  refusal  —  dost  hear?  I  will  not. 
And  a  word  o'  persuasion  i'  thy  ear,  com 
rade :  Mistress  Lemon  hath  been  dead 
this  twelvemonth,  comrade.  Ah  ha!  Wilt 
a-come  the  now?  That's  well.  And  thou 
shalt  hear  that  lass  o'  mine  troll  thee  "  Jog 
on,  jog  on,"  and  "  Mistress  mine,  where  art 
thou  roaming  ?"  and  "  Listen,  Robin,  while 
I  woo."  Come,  comrade,  come.  But  stay ; 
let's  crack  another  drink  together  ere  we 
go.  Joel!  What  there!  Joel,  I  say!  An 
other  quart  o'  sack  for  Master  Turnip ! 


NURSE  CRUMPET  TELLS  THE 
STORY. 


Time. —  A  bitter  January  night  in  the  year  of  Grace 
1669. 

Scene. — Sunderidge  Castle — The  great  hall — A  mon 
strous  fire  burning  in  the  big  fireplace  —  Nurse 
Crumpet  discovered  seated  on  a  settle  —  At  her 
either  knee  lean  the  little  Lady  Dorothy  and  her 
brother,  the  young  Earl  of  Sunderidge,  Lord  Hum 
phrey  Lennox. 

Nurse  Crumpet. — Nay,  now,  Lady  Doro 
thy,  why  wilt  thou  be  at  the  pains  o'  such 
a  clamoring  ?  Sure  thou  hast  heard  that 
old  tale  o'er  a  hundred  times ;  and  thou 
too,  my  lord  ?  Fie,  then  !  Wouldst  seek 
to  flatter  thy  old  nurse  with  this  seeming 
eagerness  ?  Go  to  !  I  say  thou  canst  not 
in  truth  want  to  hear  me  drone  o'er  that 
ancient  narrative.  Well,  then,  an  I  must, 


Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story.     169 

I  must.  Soft !  Hold  my  fan  betwixt  thy 
dainty  cheeks  and  the  blaze,  sweetheart, 
lest  the  fire-fiend  witch  thy  roses  into  very 
poppy  flowers.  And  thou,  my  lord,  come 
closer  to  my  side,  lest  the  draught  from  the 
bay-window  smite  thee  that  thou  howlest  o' 
th'  morrow  with  a  crick  i'  thy  neck.  Well, 
well,  be  patient.  All  in  time,  in  time.  Soft, 
now  !  Ye  both  mind  that  I  was  but  a  lit 
tle  lass  when  thy  grandmother,  the  Lady 
Elizabeth  Lennox,  did  take  me  to  train  as 
her  maid-in-waiting.  I  was  just  turned  six 
teen  that  Martlemas,  and  not  a  fair -sized 
wench  for  my  years  either.  Would  ye  be 
lieve  ?  I  could  set  my  two  thumbs  togeth 
er  at  my  backbone  in  those  days,  and  my 
ring-fingers  would  all  but  kiss  too. 

Lord  Humphrey. — Ha  !  ha !  Nurse,  thy 
fingers  would  be  but  ill  satisfied  lovers  un 
der  those  conditions  nowadays.  Eh,  Dolly? 

Lady  Dorothy. — Hold  thy  tongue  for  an 
unmannerly  lad,  Humphrey.  Do  not  thou 
heed  him,  nurse,  but  go  on  with  thy  story. 


170     Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story. 

Nurse  Crumpet. — For  all  thy  laughter, 
my  lord,  I'd  a  waist  my  garter  would  bind 
in  those  days,  and  was  as  light  on  my  toes 
as  those  flames  that  dance  i'  th'  chimney. 
Lord  !  Lord  !  how  well  I  mind  me  o'  th' 
first  time  that  e'er  I  clapt  eyes  on  Jock 
Crumpet !  I  was  speeding  home  with  a  jug 
o'  water  from  the  spring,  and  what  with  his 
staring  as  he  stood  at  the  road-side  to  let 
me  pass,  and  what  with  a  root  i'  th'  way,  I 
all  but  lost  my  footing.  Yet  did  I  swing 
round  alone,  holding  fast  my  jug,  and  ne'er 
one  blessed  drop  o'  water  spilled  I,  for  all 
my  tripping.  "  By'r  lay'kin !"  quoth  he, 
"  thou'rt  as  light  on  thy  feet  as  a  May  wind, 
and  as  I  live  I  will  dance  the  Barley  Break 
with  thee  this  harvesting  or  I  will  dance 
with  none !"  And  i'  faith  a  was  as  good 
as  his  word,  for  by  hook  or  by  crook,  and 
much  scheming  and  planning,  and  bring 
ing  o'  gewgaws  to  my  mother,  and  a  pres 
ent  o'  a  fine  yearling  to  my  father,  that 
harvesting  did  I  dance  the  Barley  Break 


Crumpet  Tells  the  Story.     171 

with  Jock  Crumpet.    And  a  was  a  feather- 
man  in  a  round  reel. 

Well,  'twas  the  year  o'  my  meeting  with 
Jock,  thou  mindst.  (And  a  cold  winter 
that  was — Christ  save  us !  There  be  ne'er 
such  winters  nowadays.  This  night  is  as 
a  summer  noon  i'  th'  comparison.)  'Twas 
the  year  o'  my  first  meeting  with  Jock,  and 
my  lady,  your  grandmother,  sent  for  me  to 
the  castle,  to  be  her  waiting-maid.  Lord ! 
'twas  a  troublous  time !  What  with  joy  at 
my  good  fortune,  and  sorrow  at  quitting 
my  mother,  I  was  fain  to  smile  with  one 
corner  o'  my  mouth  and  look  grievously 
with  the  other,  like  a  zany  at  a  village  fair. 
And  Jock,  he  would  not  that  I  went,  for 
that  he  could  not  see  me,  or  consort  wi' 
me  so  often :  Jock  was  aye  honey-combed 
wi'  th'  thing  ye  call  "  sentiment."  A  wrould 
grin  on  a  flower  I  had  wov'n  in  my  locks 
by  th'  hour  together.  And  'tis  my  belief 
a  could  a  spun  him  a  warm  doublet  out 
o'  the  odds  and  ends  o'  ribbon  and  what 


172     Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story. 

not  he  had  filched  from  me  when  my  eyes 
were  elsewhere.  And  Jock  —  but  'tis  nei 
ther  here  nor  there  o'  Jock.  In  those  days 
thy  grandmother  had  only  one  child,  a  lit 
tle  lass,  the  Lady  Patience.  And  ne'er  was 
man  or  maid  worse  named ;  for  to  call  such 
a  flibbertigibbet  "  Patience  "  were  as  though 
one  should  name  a  frisksome  colt  "  Slum 
ber,"  or  christen  a  spring  brook  "  Quiet." 
Patience,  quotha !  'Twas  patience  in  truth 
a  body  had  need  of,  who  was  thrown  at  all 
with  her  little  ladyship.  But  there  was 
ne'er  so  beautiful  a  maiden  born  in  all  the 
broad  land  of  England ;  nor  will  be  again 
— not  though  London  Tower  be  standing 
when  the  last  trump  sounds.  Meseemed 
she  was  an  elf-sprite,  so  tiny  was  she ;  and 
her  face  like  a  fair  flower,  so  fresh  and 
pure.  Her  hair  \vas  shed  about  her  face 
like  sunlight  on  thistle-down,  and  her  eyes 
made  a  shining  behind  it,  like  the  big  blue 
gems  in  her  mother's  jewel-box.  When 
she  laughed,  it  \vas  as  water  falling  into 


Nitrse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story.     173 

water  from  a  short  height,  with  ripples,  and 
little  murmurs,  and  a  clear  tinkling  sound. 
But  she  was  ne'er  more  at  rest  than  the 
leaves  on  an  aspen-tree.  Hither  and  thith 
er  would  she  flit,  this  way  and  that,  up  and 
down,  round  and  round,  backward  and  for 
ward,  about  and  about.  F  faith,  ofttimes 
would  I  be  right  dizzy  come  nightfall,  with 
following  of  her ;  for  ere  I  had  been  at  the 
castle  a  day,  she  took  so  mighty  a  fancy 
to  me,  that  naught  would  do  but  she  must 
have  me  for  her  maid ;  and  so  my  lady, 
who  (God  pardon  my  boldness !)  did  utter 
ly  spoil  her  in  all  things,  gave  me  unto  her 
as  a  nurse-maid. — But  sure  ye  are  a-weary 
o'  this  old  tale ! 

Lady  Dorothy  and  Lord  Humphrey  in  a 
breath. — Nay,  go  on,  go  on. 

Nurse  Crumpet. — Well,  well,  o'  all  the 
story -loving  bairns!  But  I  must  invent 
me  a  new  history  for  the  next  time  o'  tell-* 
ing. 

Lord  Humphrey. —  Nay,  that  thou  shalt 


174     Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story. 

not.     We  will  ne'er  like  any  as  well  as  we 
like  this  one.     So  despatch. 

Nurse  Crumpet. — But  my  lady  had  also 
an  adopted  daughter,  a  niece  o'  my  lord's 
— one  Mistress  Marian  Every  —  and  she 
walked  beside  the  little  Lady  Patience  as 
night  might  walk  beside  day,  for  she  was 
as  brown  o'  skin  as  a  mountain  stream,  and 
her  hair  like  a  cloud  at  even  -  tide,  dark, 
but  of  no  certain  color,  albeit  as  soft  as  rav 
elled  silk,  and  marvellous  hard  to  comb  on 
account  o'  its  fineness.  Mistress  Marian 
was  full  head  and  shoulders  taller  than  her 
cousin,  the  Lady  Patience,  and  she  could 
lift  her  aloft  in  her  arms,  and  swing  her 
from  side  to  side,  as  a  supple  bough  swings 
a  bird.  And  her  eyes  were  dark,  and  cool 
to  gaze  into,  like  a  pool  o'  clear  water  o'er 
autumn  leaves,  and  sometimes  there  were 
glints  o'  light  in  them,  like  the  spikes  i'  th' 
evening-star  when  thou  dost  gaze  steadily 
upon  it.  Black  and  white  were  not  more 
different  than  were  they,  and  they  resem- 


Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story.     175 

bled  even  less  in  mind  than  they  did  in 
body.  When  Lady  Patience  waxed  wroth, 
her  cheeks  burned  like  two  coals,  and  thou 
couldst  hear  her  little  teeth  grinding  to 
gether,  like  pebbles  squeezed  i'  th'  palm  o' 
thy  hand ;  but  when  Mistress  Marian  was 
an-angered,  the  blood  rushed  back  to  her 
heart,  and  she  was  whiter  than  a  lamb 
at  the  shearing,  and  her  lips  like  white 
threads.  Then  would  the  light  shoot  and 
spin  in  her  eyes,  and  her  nostrils  suck  in 
and  out,  like  those  of  a  fretful  horse.  And 
she  was  fierce  after  the  manner  of  a  man 
rather  than  of  a  maid.  Moreover,  she  was 
full  a  year  younger  than  the  Lady  Pa 
tience  ;  but  she  looked  it  not ;  rather  did 
her  ladyship  look  full  two  years  younger 
than  Mistress  Marian.  And  I  loved  them 
both,  and  tried  as  a  Christian  not  to  pre 
fer  one  before  the  other ;  but  what  with 
my  lady's  stealings  of  her  arms  about  my 
neck  as  I  sat  at  my  stitchery,  and  popping 
of  comfits  in  my  pocket  when  I  would  be 


176     Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story. 

otherwise  engaged,  and  teasings,  and  tick 
lings,  and  sundry  other  pretty  witcheries 
which  I  do  not  at  this  day  recall,  I  was 
fairly  cozened  into  loving  her  the  best. 
(Honey,  I  charge  thee  hold  my  fan  be 
twixt  thee  and  the  fire.)  But  to  continue. 
— Mistress  Marian  was  aye  courteous  and 
kindly  to  me  as  heart  could  wish,  and 
every  night  did  she  thank  me  i'  th'  pret 
tiest  fashion,  when  I  had  combed  and  un 
pinned  her  for  the  night ;  but,  Lord !  I 
had  much  ado  to  get  Lady  Patience  comb 
ed  or  unpinned  at  all !  First  would  she 
jump  with  both  knees  upon  mine,  and  hug 
my  very  breath  away ;  then,  when  I  had 
at  last  coaxed  her  to  get  down,  first  she 
would  perch  on  one  leg  and  then  o'  the 
other,  and  then  be  a-twisting  her  head  now 
over  this  shoulder,  now  over  that,  to  see 
how  I  came  on  with  the  unpinning,  that 
it  was  with  a  prayer  to  God  that  I  final 
ly  set  her  night-gown  over  her  shoulders, 
and  led  her  to  bed.  As  for  her  prayers 


Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story.     177 

— Jesu  aid  me  and  pardon  her! — 'twas  a 
matter  of  hours  to  get  her  to  say  "  Our 
Father "  straight  through,  what  with  her 
vowing  that  she  wished  not  bread  every 

O  -i 

day,  and  how  that  if  his  lordship  her  father 
forgave  not  trespassers  (for  I  could  ne'er 
draw  the  difference  between  trespasser  and 
trespassers  into  her  pretty  pate),  neither 
would  she ;  and  how  she  did  not  believe 
God  would  lead  her  into  temptation  at  any 
time,  but  that  it  was  the  Devil ;  and  how 
it  must  anger  God  even  to  think  of  such 
doings  on  His  part  —  what,  I  say,  with  all 
this,  methought  sometimes  it  would  be  cock 
crow  ere  I  got  her  safely  to  sleep.  And 
all  this  time  Mistress  Marian  would  be  lying 
as  quiet  as  any  mouse,  with  her  big  plait  of 
hair  between  her  fingers,  for  so  she  always 
slept,  with  her  hair  fast  in  her  hands,  as 
though  she  loved  its  beauty ;  and  in  truth  it 
was  the  one  great  beauty  she  had,  for  my 
little  lady  put  her  out  with  her  glitter  as  the 
sunlight  doth  extinguish  a  morning  moon. 
12 


178     Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story. 

Now  I  had  been  at  the  castle  scarce 
two  months  when  one  day  it  chances  that 
I  hear  my  lady  a -telling  o'  my  lord  how 
as  her  brother,  Lord  Charles  Radnor,  dy 
ing  wifeless,  had  left  his  only  son  to  her 
care  until  he  should  come  of  age.  And 
on  that  Tuesday  the  little  lord  set  foot 
in  the  castle  ;  and  my  lady  was  down  at 
the  door -way  to  meet  him,  in  a  new  vel 
vet  gown,  with  her  wimple  sewn  in  fine 
pearls,  and  my  lord  with  her ;  but  my  two 
nurslings  waxed  shy  at  the  last  minute,  and 
would  not  come  down,  but  leaned  and  peer 
ed  through  the  posts  o'  the  stair- rail,  and 
my  little  lady  let  fall  one  o'  her  shoes  in 
her  eagerness  to  glimpse  at  her  new  cous 
in.  And  straightway  ran  the  lad  and  lift 
ed  the  wee  shoe,  and  looked  upward,  laugh 
ing,  and  my  lord  and  lady  having  retired 
into  the  dining-hall,  to  see  that  some  cold 
viands  were  in  readiness  (it  being  then  near 
to  nightfall,  though  not  yet  supper  hour). — 
"  Ho  !  thou  little  cinder  witch,"  cried  he ; 


Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story.     179 

"  I  am  the  prince  that  has  found  thy  shoe, 
and  when  I  shall  have  found  thee,  if  that 
thy  temper  be  as  small  as  thy  shoe,  fear 
not  but  that  I  will  kiss  thee  too!"  With 
that,  he  ran  up  the  stair-way,  two  and  three 
steps  at  a  leap. 

And  I  followed,  for  I  knew  not  what 
would  happen  an  he  claimed  his  kiss  as 
he  had  threatened  (knowing  as  did  I,  that 
in  verity  my  lady's  shoe  would  a  been  a 
tight  fit  for  her  temper). 

But  when  he  was  arrived  at  the  top,  lo ! 
they  had  both  fled,  neither  had  they  left 
so  much  as  a  ribbon  behind  them.  Then 
the  lad  laughed  again,  as  pleasant  a  laugh 
as  e'er  I  heard  in  all  my  days,  and  quoth 
he,  "  I  would  be  but  a  poor  prince  an  I 
had  not  to  search  for  my  little  princess." 
So  off  he  starts,  and  I  after  him,  up  and 
down  corridors,  in  at  half -open  doors,  out 
upon  balconies,  hither  and  thither,  after  the 
manner  o'  my  little  lady  on  her  most  un 
quiet  days,  till  at  last,  for  the  sake  o'  peace, 


180    Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story. 

I  did  slyly  lead  him  in  the  direction  o'  the 
great  nursery.  There,  catching  sight  o'  a 
little  red  petticoat,  he  enters,  where  stand 
my  truant  elves  confessed,  Mistress  Marian 
frowning  and  biting  o'  her  dark  hair,  but 
my  little  lady  like  to  stifle,  with  both  hands 
over  her  mouth  to  hide  her  smiles,  and  her 
blue  eyes  dancing  a  very  Barley  Break  o' 
mirth  among  the  yellow  sheaves  o'  her 
tresses. 

Then  there  was  much  parley  o'er  the 
fitting  o'  the  shoe,  as  both  damsels  did 
straightway  sit  down  upon  their  feet,  nei 
ther  for  a  long  time  would  they  move  an 
eyelash,  till  his  lordship,  with  a  twink  o'  his 
eye  at  me,  did  suggest  corns  and  bunions 
as  a  reason  for  their  'havior  —  and,  Lord  ! 
then  'twas  pretty  to  mark  how  like  little 
chicks  beneath  their  dam's  feathers,  first 
one  little  foot  and  then  the  other  did  steal 
out  from  the  rich  lace  o'  their  petticoats. 
And  ere  one  could  cry  "  Oh !"  for  a  pinch, 
he  had  slipt  the  shoe  on  my  little  lady's 


Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story.     181 

wee  foot,  and  had  kissed  her  right  heartily. 
Moreo'er,  what  I  did  most  marvel  at,  was 
that  she  neither  cuffed  nor  sought  to  cuff 
him,  but  dropt  down  her  head  until  her  hair 
made  a  veil  before  her  face,  and  moved  that 
foot  whereon  he  had  set  her  shoe,  gently 
back  and  forth  as  though  the  leather  was 
stiff  to  her  ankle,  and  I  saw  that  she  look 
ed  at  it  from  under  her  heavy  hair.  But 
Mistress  Marian  still  held  aloof,  and  chewed 
upon  her  dark  locks  like  a  heifer  on  its  cud. 
And  her  eyes  were  every  whit  as  dark  and 
solemn  as  a  very  cow's.  Then  the  young 
lord  laughed  again,  and  cried  out,  "  Ha!  the 
ox-eyed  June!"  or  some  such  apery,  and 
went  and  kneeled  before  her  in  mock  fash 
ion,  as  before  a  queen,  and  quoth  he,  "  Fair 
goddess  "  (for  'twas  afterwards  explained  to 
me  what  manner  of  being  was  a  goddess, 
namely,  some  kind  of  a  foreign  fairy) — 
"  Fair  goddess,"  quoth  he,  "  show  me  how  I 
may  dispel  thy  wrath."  And  still  she  scowl 
ed  on  him,  but  spoke  no  word.  And  he 


1 82     Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story. 

continued,  and  said,  "  I  prithee,  fair  lady, 
cast  but  one  smile  upon  thy  humble  knight" 
(thou  mind'st  their  pretty  foolery  has  stuck 
i'  my  old  pate  unto  this  day). 

Then  she  answered  and  saith,  "Thou  silly 
lad,  how  can  I  be  a  goddess  and  a  lady  both 
in  one  ?  Thou  hast  not  even  enough  wit  to 
make  a  good  fool.  So !"  (for  Mistress  Ma 
rian  had  a  sharp  tongue  at  times). 

But  he  was  not  so  much  as  ruffled,  and 
laughed  even  again,  most  heartily.  And  he 
said,  "  I  do  perceive  that  thou  art  not  fash 
ioned  either  as  goddess  or  lady,  therefore 
be  my  comrade,  and  we  will  fight  together 
for  the  weal  o'  yon  fairy  princess."  All  at 
once  she  laughed  too,  and  yielded  him  her 
hand,  and  said,  "  I  like  thee.  What  is  thy 
name  ?" 

He  said,  "  My  name  is  Ernie ;  and  I  like 
thee  too;  therefore,  I  pray  thee,  tell  me 
thine." 

So  she  told  him,  and  my  little  lady  sidling 
up,  the  three  fell  presently  a-chattering  like 


Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story.     183 

linnets  at  sunrise,  and  from  that  hour  on  I 
had  no  trouble  with  them. 

Twas  pretty  to  mark  them  at  their  fan 
tasies.  They  were  aye  out  -  o'  -  door  save 
when  'twas  rainy  weather,  and  then  me- 
thought  the  castle  had  scarce  room  enough 
for  them.  In  all  their  games  Mistress  Ma 
rian  was  the  little  lord's  comrade,  and  wore 
a  helmet  o'  silvered  wood,  and  carried  a 
wooden  sword  silvered  to  match  her  head 
gear,  and  the  little  lord  was  likewise  appar 
elled.  And  he  called  her  ever  "  Comrade," 
and  clapped  her  o'  th'  shoulder,  as  mankind 
will  clap  one  the  other  when  conversing. 

But  my  little  lady,  they  both  agreed,  was 
a  fairy  princess ;  and,  Lord,  Lord !  'twould 
take  me  from  now  'til  Martlemas  next  to 
name  the  perilous  'scapes  that  did  befall  her. 
They  fished  her  out  of  moats,  they  bore  her 
from  blazing  castles,  they  did  drag  her  from 
the  maws  o'  dragons  and  other  wild  beasts 
I  know  not  how  to  name.  Thrice  was  the 
little  Lord  of  Radnor  in  dire  straits  at  the 


184     Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story. 

claws  o'  goblin  creatures.  Three  times  did 
his  comrade  rescue  him  by  thwacking  upon 
the  chair  which  did  represent  the  dreadful 
beast,  till  I  was  in  sore  dread  there  would 
be  no  mending  of  it,  and  me,  mayhap,  dis 
missed  from  the  castle  for  carelessness. 
And  always  when  'twas  all  o'er,  and  the  lit 
tle  princess  in  safety,  I  was  called  upon  to 
act  parson  and  wed  my  little  lady  to  the  lit 
tle  lord,  while  Mistress  Marian  leaned  on 
her  sword  to  witness  the  doings. 

One  day,  in  their  rovings  through  the 
park,  they  came  by  chance  upon  a  door  in 
the  hill-side,  but  so  o'ergrown  with  creeping 
vines  that,  had  not  the  little  lord  stumbled 
upon  it,  'twas  very  like  it  had  been  there  to 
this  day  without  discovery.  Well,  no  soon 
er  do  they  see  the  door  than  they  must 
needs  open  it,  spite  o'  all  my  scolding,  and 
peer  within.  'Twas  but  a  darksome  hole, 
after  all — a  kind  o'  cave  i'  th'  hill-side,  which 
they  did  afterwards  find  out  from  thy  grand 
father  was  used  in  days  gone  by  for  con- 


Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story.     185 

cealing  treasures  in  time  of  war.  And  in 
deed  it  seemed  a  safe  place,  for  there  were 
two  rusty  bolts  as  big  as  my  arm,  one  o'  th' 
inside  and  one  o'  th'  outside,  and  the  creep 
ing  things  hid  all.  As  thou  mightst  think, 
it  grew  to  be  their  favorite  coigne  for  play 
ing  their  dragon  and  princess  trickeries.  I 
would  sit  with  my  stitchery  on  a  fallen  log 
in  the  sunshine,  while  they  ran  in  and  out 
o'  th'  grewsome  hole.  But  in  all  their  frol 
icking  my  little  lady  could  ne'er  abide  the 
sight  o'  their  swords,  and  she  pleaded  ever 
for  gentler  games.  One  day  (I  shall  ne'er 
forget,  though  I  live  to  see  doomsday)  they 
did  crown  her  a  queen,  and  then  my  lord 
would  have  it  that  she  dubbed  him  her 
knight.  She  pleaded  that  prettily  against 
it  methought  the  veriest  boor  in  Christen 
dom  would  a  given  in  to  her,  but  my  little 
lord  was  stanch.  So  they  made  her  a 
throne  o'  flowers,  and  when  she  was  seated 
thereon,  Mistress  Marian  handed  her  the 
great  wooden  sword,  and  my  lord,  kneeling, 


1 86     Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story. 

bade  her  strike  him  on  the  shoulder  with 
the  flat  side  o'  th'  sword,  saying,  "  Rise,  Sir 
Ernie,  my  knight  for  evermore  !" 

She  got  out  the  words  as  he  bade  her, 
but  when  't  came  to  the  stroke,  what  with 
her  natural  fright,  and  what  with  the  sun 
light  on  the  silver,  she  brought  down  the 
heavy  blade  edgewise  on  the  boy's  pate,  lay 
ing  wide  quite  a  gash  above  his  left  eye 
brow,  so  that  the  blood  trickled  down  his 
cheek.  When  she  saw  that,  meseemed  all 
the  blood  in  her  body  went  to  keep  his  com 
pany,  for  she  turned  whiter  than  her  smock, 
and  ran  and  got  her  arm  about  him  and 
saith,  o'er  and  o'er  again,  "  Ernie !  Ernie ! 
I  have  killed  thee !" 

He  laughed,  to  comfort  her,  and  made 
light  of  it,  and  wetting  his  finger  in  the 
blood,  drew  a  cross  on  his  brow  and  said, 
"  Nay,  thou  hast  not  killed  me.  And  more- 
o'er,  I  am  not  only  thy  knight,  but  thy  Red 
Cross  Knight  into  the  bargain,  and  thou  my 
lady  forever.  See !  I  will  seal  thee  with  my 


Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story.     187 

very  blood !"  and  ere  she  could  draw  back, 
he  had  set  also  a  cross  on  her  white  brow. 
She  shuddered  and  fell  a-weeping,  and  drew 
her  hand  across  her  brow  to  wipe  away  the 
ugly  stain ;  and  when  she  saw  that  she  had 
but  smeared  it  on  her  hand,  she  trembled 
more  than  ever,  and  it  was  not  for  some 
days  that  I  could  quiet  her. 

I  do  but  relate  this  story,  to  show  in  what 
horror  my  little  lady  did  ever  hold  swords 
and  bloodshed. 

Well,  to  continue — 

This  could  not  last  for  aye,  and  when  two 
more  years  were  sped,  his  uncle  sent  the 
little  lord  to  a  place  o'  learning;  and  after 
wards  to  travel  to  and  fro  upon  the  earth, 
after  the  manner  of  Satan  in  the  Book  of 
Job  (God  forgive  me !  but 't  has  ever  seem 
ed  like  that  to  me).  And  we  set  not  eyes 
on  him  for  eight  years.  Now  in  that  time, 
lo  !  I  was  married,  and  my  little  lady  and 
Mistres  Marian  in  long  kirtles,  and  their 
hair  looped  up  upon  their  heads.  Mistress 


1 88     Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story. 

Marian  was  yet  full  head  and  shoulders 
above  my  little  lady,  and  her  skin  as  brown 
as  ever.  But  my  little  lady  was  as  bright 
and  slender  as  a  sun-ray. 

They  would  speak  to  me  sometimes  of 
Lord  Radnor,  and  how  that  great  folks 
were  saying  great  things  of  him,  and  how 
he  was  become  a  soldier  and  a  marvellous 
person  altogether;  but  as  the  years  went 
by  they  seemed  not  so  ready  to  talk  o'  him, 
only  sometimes  my  little  lady  would  pull 
down  my  head  as  I  smoothed  the  bed 
clothes  over  her  at  night,  and  quoth  she, 
"  Nurse,  dost  think  he  will  be  much 
changed  ?  My  hair  hath  not  darkened 
much,  hath  it?  Dost  think  his  curls  will 
be  different  from  what  they  were  when  he 
was  a  lad  ?"  And  I  would  have  to  tell  her 
"  No  "  a  dozen  times  ere  she  would  let  me 
go.  But  Mistress  Marian  said  never  a 
word. 

One  day  I  learned  of  my  lady  how  that 
Lord  Radnor  was  to  return  the  next  week, 


Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story.     189 

and  meseemed  in  truth  the  whole  castle 
was  waxed  distraught. 

It  is  not  in  my  power  to  tell  o'  th'  do 
ings,  but  suffice  it  to  say,  my  lord  did  cozen 
them  all,  and  come  a  full  day  ere  he  was 
expected. 

When  he  came,  Mistress  Marian  was 
standing  i'  th'  great  door  o'  th'  castle,  in 
her  hawking  gown  o'  green  velure  cloth 
laced  all  with  silver  cord  ;  her  plumed  hat 
wras  on  her  curls,  and  her  hawk,  Beryl,  on 
her  fist.  And  she  turned  and  beheld  him. 
Ne'er  did  I  see  verier  light  in  earth  or  sky, 
than  flashed  into  her  face  as  their  eyes  met. 
And  he  doffed  his  hat,  and  came  up  be 
side  her  on  the  step,  and  saith,  with  the  old 
laugh,  but  gentler,  "  Well  met,  comrade." 

Now  when  he  called  her  "  comrade," 
'twas  as  when  Jock  did  call  me  "  sweet 
heart  "  in  the  days  o'  our  wooing.  She 
went  red  as  the  ribbon  in  his  sleeves ;  and 
when  the  falcon  fretted  and  shook  its  bells, 
he  did  put  out  his  hand  and  stroke  it,  and, 


190     Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story. 

lo !  it  was  still,  and  seemed  to  feel  him  as 
its  master.  And  I  wondered  all  this  time 
where  could  be  my  little  lady. 

To  this  day  I  have  ne'er  seen  so  hand 
some  a  man  as  the  young  lord.  He  was 
tall  and  straight  as  an  oak,  with  curls  the 
color  of  frost-touched  oak-leaves  i'  th'  sun- 
light,  and  eyes  like  the  amber  drink  when 
men  hold  it  aloft  ere  quaffing,  and  his 
whole  countenance  bright  and  eager,  and 
narrow  like  that  o'  a  fox,  but  without  a 
fox's  cunning.  Then  he  seemed  fashioned 
to  run,  and  ride,  and  war,  as  doth  become 
all  men,  whether  of  high  or  low  estate. 

Then  went  I  within  to  inquire  after  my 
little  lady;  and  Jock,  who  was  become  a 
footman  i'  th'  castle,  did  tell  me  of  how  he 
had  seen  her  set  forth  to  walk  i'  th'  park 
an  hour  gone.  So  straightway  I  went  in 
search  of  her. 

I  had  gone  some  six  hundred  paces 
when,  at  a  sudden  turning,  I  came  upon 
her,  where  she  held  a  little  urchin  a-strad- 


Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story.     191 

die  of  her  big  deer-hound  "  Courage."  The 
child  gave  chuckles  o'  delight  as  he  slipped 
from  side  to  side,  and  the  sun  through  the 
beech-leaves  made  their  heads  as  like  as 
two  crown  pieces.  Even  as  I  was  about  to 
lift  up  my  voice  to  halloo  unto  her,  lo !  my 
lord  doth  part  the  thick  branches,  and  steps 
forth  a  little  behind  her,  and  stands  watch 
ing  her.  And  as  he  did  stand  there,  be 
hold,  a  look  came  o'er  his  face,  that  was 
stranger  than  any  look  I  had  e'er  seen  on 
th'  face  of  man  or  of  woman,  and  his  eyes 
were  no  more  bright  and  eager,  but  deep 
and  soft.  Then  she  turned  and  went  direct 
towards  him  unknowing. 

When  she  was  beside  him,  still  laugh 
ing  and  half  out  o'  breath  with  balancing 
o'  th'  heavy  boy,  he  saith  these  two  words, 
"  My  lady,"  and  methought  there  was  a 
whole  year's  love-making  o'  ordinary  men 
crammed  into  them.  Quoth  I  to  myself: 
"  Ah,  my  little  lord,  so  thou  hast  that  trick 
with  thee !  God  keep  my  little  ladies  !  for 


1 92     Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story. 

if  the  tongue  be  a  fire,  how  must  it  burn 
when  such  a  wit  doth  wag  it !"  And  I  de 
termined  in  my  heart  that  by  some  means 
I  would  warn  my  little  lady  of  his  sweet 
speecheries.  Yet  was  I  tender  towards  him 
for  the  sake  o'  by-gone  days.  Mayhap, 
moreover,  his  comely  face  had  something 
to  do  with  it,  for,  i'  fecks,  ne'er  saw  I  a  good 
lier  countenance  on  Roundhead  or  Cav 
alier. 

Now  when  my  lady  heard  his  voice  at 
her  ear,  first  gives  she  such  a  start  as  doth 
a  mettlesome  filly  when  a  hare  jumps  out 
before  it,  then  stock-still  stands  she,  and  her 
face  whiter  than  a  wind-flower,  and  her  lips 
a-tremble  as  if  to  speak,  but  no  word  comes 
from  them. 

He  saith  again,  "  My  lady." 

I  saw  by  the  moving  of  her  lips  that  she 
fashioned  the  words  "My  God!"  but  still 
she  spoke  not.  And  the  child  began  to 
whimper  and  clutch  at  her  kirtle,  for  she 
had  loosened  her  hold  of  him,  and  he  feared 


JVnrse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story.     193 

falling  off  of  the  big  dog.  So  she  put  one 
arm  about  him  to  hold  him,  but  her  eyes 
were  yet  upon  his  lordship. 

Then  he  came  and  lifted  her  hand  to  his 
breast,  and  it  lay  upon  his  dark-green  doub 
let,  as  a  white  flower-leaf  doth  upon  grass, 
and  he  saith  to  her,  "  Sweetheart,  dost  thou 
not  know  me  ?" 

All  at  once,  for  what,  God  only  knoweth, 
she  fell  a-weeping,  and  he  had  her  in  his 
arms.  And  being  some  two  years  a  moth 
er,  my  care  was  all  for  the  poor  little  rogue 
on  the  deer-hound ;  'twas  as  much  as  I  could 
do  to  hold  back  from  running  and  snatch 
ing  him  in  my  arms  to  soothe  his  terror. 

Howbeit,  ere  that  I  could  commit  this 
madness,  the  frighted  babe  set  up  such  a 
howl  as  only  a  man-child  can  utter,  and  my 
lady  turned  to  him  in  great  haste,  and  my 
lord  also  did  set  about  comforting  him. 
Then  they  walked  slowly  on,  and  my  lord 
held  the  little  lad  on  one  side,  and  my  lady 
coaxed  him  o'  th'  other.  Ever  and  anon 
13 


194     Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story. 

my  lord  would  look  from  the  babe  to  my 
lady,  and  then  from  my  lady  to  the  babe. 
And  a  smile  just  lifted  the  corners  o'  his 
mouth,  as  sometimes  a  wind  will  just  stir 
the  leaves  ere  shaking  them  as  with  jollity. 
I  followed  cautiously  at  some  distance,  and 
by-and-by  his  lordship  said,  "  How  was  it 
that  thou  didst  not  know  me,  coz  ?  Faith 
thou  art  shot  up  like  a  lily  i'  th'  sun,  but 
lilies  are  aye  lilies,  and  leaving  thee  a  lily, 
I  find  thee  a  lily  still,  though  blooming  on 
a  taller  stem." 

And  she  answered  him;  "Yea,  cousin, 
and  oaks  are  aye  oaks,  though  first  they  be 
saplings,  then  trees.  And  in  truth  I  knew 
thee  by  thy  voice  ere  I  looked  at  thee; 
but  'twas  all  so  sudden,  that  i'  faith  I  was 
frightened  at  thee." 

And  he  said,  "  But  thou  art  glad  to  see 
me?" 

And  being  busy  with  the  child,  she  an 
swered  him  without  lifting  her  head,  "  Thou 
knowest  that  I  am." 


Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story.     195 

Then  did  he  laugh  a  little,  and  saith, 
"  How  should  I  know,  coz  ?  Proof,  proof, 
I  pray  thee.  Wilt  thou  not  give  me  the 
kiss  o'  welcome  after  all  these  years  ?" 

Now  he  had  not  offered  to  kiss  Mistress 
Marian.  Therefore  I  waited  right  curious 
ly  to  see  what  my  little  lady  would  say  unto 
his  offer,  and  Jock  having  dinned  it  into 
my  ears  ever  since  our  wedding-day,  that 
all  women  were  by  nature  eavesdroppers,  I 
was  of  a  mind  to  prove  his  theory  for  him ; 
so  I  not  only  listened  with  all  my  ears,  but 
I  looked  with  all  my  eyes. 

My  lady  waxed  first  ruddy,  then  like  to 
milk,  then  ruddy  again,  and  she  reached 
out  her  hand  to  him  across  the  hound.  "In 
truth  I  will,  cousin,"  quoth  she. 

He  did  take  the  little  hand  in  his,  put 
ting  down  his  other  hand  softly  over  it,  as 
when  one  holds  a  frighted  bird,  and  he 
looked  at  her  as  though  he  would  pierce 
her  lids  with  his  gaze,  for  her  eyes  were 
down,  and  he  saith,  "  Sweetheart,  right 


196     Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story. 

gladly  will  I  give  this  pretty  hand  the  kiss 
o'  an  eternal  welcome ;  but  methinks  thou 
hast  begged  the  question.  I  pleaded  to  re 
ceive  a  kiss  rather  than  to  bestow  one." 

And  her  face  was  like  a  bended  rose. 
Then  did  he  step  round  quickly  beside  her, 
and  once  more  was  the  poor  babe  left  in 
dire  terror  o'  his  life,  and  he  made  up  a 
piteous  face,  but  the  dog  standing  still,  he 
fell  to  rattling  its  collar,  and  soon  waxed 
merry  with  the  jingle  o'  th'  silver.  So  I 
looked  again  at  my  lady  and  Lord  Radnor. 

He  had  taken  her  about  her  waist  with 
one  arm,  and  with  the  other  hand  he  lifted 
gently  upward  her  fair  face,  as  doth  a  gar 
dener  a  rain-beaten  flower,  while  his  eyes 
looked  down  into  hers.  And  slowly,  slow 
ly,  almost  as  rose  -  leaves  unfurl  i'  th'  sun, 
her  white  lids  curled  upward,  and  her  blue 
eyes  peered  softly  from  her  yellow  locks 
like  corn-flowers  through  ripe  corn,  there 
being  a  tear  in  each,  as  when  a  rain-bead 
doth  tremble  i'  th'  real  corn-flowers.  And, 


Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story.     197 

to  be  the  more  like  nature,  there  ran  big 
waves  throughout  her  loosened  tresses,  like 
as  when  the  wind  doth  steal  across  a  field 
o'  grain  on  summer  noons. 

Then  he  bended  down  his  tall  head,  and 
their  lips  met.  God  alone  knows  what 
their  first  words  would  a  been,  for  ere  the 
kiss  was  well  ended,  down  falls  the  poor  lit 
tle  rogue  off  of  the  hound's  back,  and  lifts 
up  his  voice  loud  enow  to  be  heard  across 
the  sea  by  the  red  men  i'  the  new  conti 
nent.  And  my  lady  runs  and  lifts  him  in 
her  arms.  Lord !  such  an  ado  as  they  had 
a-comforting  him  !  First  my  lady,  then  my 
lord,  then  my  lady  again  —  and  at  last  my 
lord  tosses  him  to  his  shoulder,  and  saith  he, 

"  Ho!  thou  little  Jack  Pudding!  an  thou 
art  not  still  o'  th'  instant,  I'll  swear  thou  art 
a  girl,  an'  thou  shalt  ne'er  have  a  sword 
such  as  men  have." 

And  as  I  live,  the  child  stinted,  and 
waxed  as  solemn  as  an  owl !  Not  another 
tear  did  he  shed.  My  lord  saith, 


198     Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story. 

"  Now  thou  art  a  good  lad,  therefore 
thou  shalt  have  my  sword  to  play  with." 
And  he  unbinds  it  from  his  side,  scabbard 
and  all,  and  holds  it  while  the  urchin  gets 
astride  o't  and  pretends  to  ride.  When  my 
lord  is  tired  o'  stooping,  he  lifts  the  child 
again  to  his  shoulder,  and  so  do  they  con 
duct  him  back  to  his  mother,  the  gardener's 
wife.  From  thence  they  return  to  the  cas 
tle,  and  are  met  by  my  lord  and  lady  and 
all  the  servants,  while  I  haste  me  in  by  a 
side  door  to  get  on  my  Sunday  kirtle  and 
appear  with  the  rest. 

As  time  wore  on,  the  three  were  as  much 
together  as  when  he  was  a  little  lad  and 
they  lassies,  and  sometimes  from  a  window, 
and  sometimes  from  a  quiet  coigne  in  the 
great  hall  (this  very  hall,  ye  mind,  dears),  I 
would  sit  with  my  stitchery  and  mark  them 
at  their  bright  chatter. 

But  often  Mistress  Marian  would  come 
and  sit  against  my  knee,  even  as  thou  art 
sitting  now,  sweetheart,  and  ask  me  to 


Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story.     199 

stroke  her  hair,  and  when  she  would  coax 
Lord  Ernie's  big  blood-hound  "Valor"  to 
come  and  lie  beside  her,  she  would  sit  more 
quiet,  almost  as  though  she  were  asleep. 
And  she  would  ask  me  ever  and  again, 
"  Nurse,  wherefore  are  women  at  any  time 
born  with  dark  hair,  to  mar  ev'n  such  small 
comeliness  as  they  might  otherwise  have  ?" 

And  always  I  would  answer,  "  Tut !  thou 
knowest  not  of  what  thou  speakest,  my 
honey;  in  the  sight  o'  some,  dark  hair  is 
more  comely  than  fair  hair."  And  always 
she  would  shake  her  head,  and  smile  i'  th' 
fashion  o'  one  wrho  knows  better  than  an 
other.  But  she  was  a  wondrous  fair  wom 
an,  in  spite  o'  her  own  thinking,  and  shaped 
like  the  brown  metal  wench  over  yonder 
with  the  bow  and  arrows.  Diana,  say  ye  ? 
Why,  even  so ;  so  it  was  that  his  lordship 
called  her  when  he  did  not  call  her  "com 
rade." 

Now  young  Sir  Rowland  Nasmyth  (him 
who  was  father  to  that  Sir  Rowland  who 


2OO     Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story. 

wedded  your  sister  the  Lady  Anne  last 
Michaelmas,  ye  mind,  dears),  he  would  be 
often  over  for  a  day,  or  maybe  several 
days,  at  the  castle ;  and  all  four  would  ride 
a-hawking,  or  ramble  together,  two  by  two, 
through  the  park ;  or  Lord  Ernie  and  Sir 
Rowland  would  play  at  rackets,  and  i'  fecks 
'twas  a  sight  to  see  'em  at  it !  One  day  my 
little  lady  and  Sir  Rowland  (who  was  a  fair 
stripling,  with  curls  near  the  color  o'  Mis 
tress  Marian's,  and  eyes  the  tinting  o'  the 
far  sea  on  a  rainy  day)  did  wander  off  to 
gether,  and  Mistress  Marian  and  my  lord 
were  left  alone,  seated  on  a  rude  bench  un 
der  one  o'  th'  great  beech-trees  that  flank 
the  hall  door.  He  leaned  forward  and  rested 
an  elbow  on  either  knee,  and  did  let  his 
racket  swing  back  and  forth  between  them, 
and  sat  looking  down  on  it.  Mistress  Ma 
rian's  gaze  was  upon  him,  but  her  big  hat 
made  so  deep  a  shadow  o'er  her  eyes  withal 
that  I  could  not  note  them  clearly.  So 
stayed  they  for  some  moments. 


Niirse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story.     201 

Then  all  in  a  breath  did  Lord  Ernie 
start  erect  and  push  back  his  heavy  locks 
and  speak.  "Comrade,"  saith  he,  "wilt 
thou  call  me  an  ass  for  my  pains,  I  won 
der,  an  I  tell  thee  o'  something  that  is  trou 
bling  me  sorely  ?" 

She,  having  in  no  wise  moved  from  her 
first  position,  and  her  eyes  still  in  shadow, 
saith,  "  I  pray  thee  say  on,  Ernie,  for  such 
words  as  thou  hast  just  spoken  to  me  are 
idle." 

And  he  leaned  forward  and  took  one  of 
her  long  brown  hands  in  his,  but  'twas  dif 
ferent  from  the  way  in  which  he  had  ta'en 
my  little  lady's  hand  at  their  first  meeting, 
and  he  saith,  "  Comrade,  for  thou  hast  e'er 
been  my  true  and  loyal  comrade,  Marian — 
sweet  comrade-cousin  —  this  is  the  matter 
that  doth  eat  my  heart.  Dost  think  there 
is  aught  between  Patience  and  that  young 
coxcomb  ?" 

There  came  a  red  mark  all  across  he? 
brow,  as  though  he  had  smitten  her,  for 


2O2     ^irse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story. 

with  her  sudden  movement  her  hat  had 
fallen  upon  the  ground  at  her  feet.  And 
she  put  up  her  hand  to  her  side  as  if  in 
pain,  but  snatched  it  back  quickly.  And 
for  one  heart-beat  she  shut  her  eyes.  My 
lord,  who  had  stooped  forward  to  lift  her 
hat,  saw  none  o'  this,  and  when  the  hat  was 
again  upon  her  brow  and  its  shadow  over 
her  face,  she  seemed  the  same  as  ever. 
But  I  knew  the  shaft  was  in  her  heart,  and 
my  heart  seemed  to  feel  it,  for  I  loved  her 
dearly.  When  he  could  wait  no  longer,  he 
said,  "  Well,  comrade  ?" 

And  she  spoke,  for  from  the  hair  that 
crowned  her  to  the  feet  that  carried  her 
she  was  as  brave  as  any  Cavalier  that  ever 
swung  sword  for  the  King,  and  she  said, 
"  Well  indeed,  cousin,  for  thee." 

He  said,  "  How  dost  thou  mean  for 
me?" 

Then  stooped  she  and  gathered  a  hand 
ful  of  grass,  and  held  it  aloft  and  opened 
her  hand,  palm  downward,  that  the  falling 


Niirse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story.     203 

blades  were  blown  this  way  and  that  by  the 
wind. 

u  I  mean,"  quoth  she,  "  that  Rowland 
Nasmyth  is  no  more  to  Patience  than  —  I 
am  to  thee."  And  she  laughed  a  little. 

He  came  closer  to  her,  and  laid  his  arm 
about  her  shoulders,  drawing  her  to  him, 
and  he  said,  "  Nay,  thou  knowest  how  dear 
thou  art  to  me,  comrade ;  but  thou  mean 
est  in  different  wise — is't  so  ?" 

She  said,  "  Yea ;  but  call  me  Marian  to 
day.  It  is  to  my  whim." 

He  answered,  "  Dear  Marian,"  and  would 
have  kissed  her  cheek,  but  she  started  up 
with  a  little  cry,  saying,  "  By'r  lay 'kin ! 
there  was  a  honey-bee  tangled  in  my  locks." 

And  \vhen  he  had  sought  for  the  bee  to 
kill  it  with  his  hat,  but  could  not  find  it, 
they  did  seat  themselves  again,  he  laughing 
and  saying  that  "  the  bee  was  a  bee  o'  much 
discretion  and  wondrous  good  taste." 

That  night  when  I  crept  to  my  little  la 
dies  to  see  that  all  was  quiet,  I,  pausing  in 


2O4     Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story. 

the  door-way,  did  note  them  as  they  lay — 
my  little  lady  with  her  head  on  Mistress 
Marian's  breast,  and  a  smile  on  her  lips, 
and  Mistress  Marian  with  her  arms  wrapped 
close  about  her,  and  her  dark  .hair  swept 
out  over  the  pillow,  and  thence  to  the  floor, 
like  a  stream  o'  water  that  reflects  a  black 
cloud,  but  her  eyes  wide  open,  looking 
straight  forward,  as  though  at  a  ghost. 
And  I  stole  off  and  sobbed  myself  to  sleep, 
but  not  before  I  had  awakened  Jock,  who 
did  grunt,  after  the  uncourteous,  pig -like 
manner  of  a  suddenly  wakened  man,  be- 
thump  his  pillow  as  though  't  had  been  an 
anvil,  and  in  turning  over,  twist  the  bed 
clothes  half  off  of  me,  so  that  what  with 
the  cold  (it  being  then  the  fall  o'  th'  year), 
and  what  with  my  distress,  I  slept  but  un 
easily. 

And  the  next  thing  I  knew  o'  th'  matter, 
there  was  a  wedding,  and  my  little  lady 
wedded  to  Lord  Ernie,  and  Mistress  Mari 
an  her  bridemaid.  Surely  if  the  good  God 


Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story.     205 

e'er  sent  happiness  on  earth,  He  did  send 
it  to  my  little  lady  and  to  his  lordship. 
'Twas  at  this  time  that  Sir  Rowland  asked 
Mistress  Marian  to  be  his  spouse.  And 
'twas  even  i'  th'  same  spot  where  Lord 
Ernie  had  discovered  his  love  for  my  little 
lady,  that  he  asked  her. 

Again  it  was  as  though  some  one  had 
smitten  her — her  face  deadly  white  and  the 
red  line  across  her  brow.  She  put  out  one 
hand  to  keep  him  from  her,  and  let  it  rest 
on  his  shoulder,  and  she  said,  "  Rowland,  I 
love  thee  well,  but  no  man  will  ever  call  me 
wife." 

He  said,  "  Is  this  the  end  ?" 

She  said,  "  Though  we  should  both  live 
to  see  the  last  day,  it  is  the  end." 

Then  he  went,  with  his  head  bowed 
down.  And  when  he  was  gone,  for  the  first 
time  in  all  her  life  she  wept  aloud. 

Some  time  passed,  and  matters  waxed 
ever  hotter  and  hotter  'twixt  Cavaliers  and 


206     Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story. 

Roundheads,  till  one  night  there  rode  up  a 
man  to  the  castle  gate  with  papers  for  Lord 
Ernie,  and  the  long  and  the  short  o't  was 
this :  His  lordship  was  ordered  to  ride  forth 
to  war,  and  my  little  lady  only  three  months 
his  wife.  Now  when  this  blow  fell  upon 
them  they  were  all  at  meat  in  this  very 
hall,  for  ofttimes  in  cold  weather  they  dined 
here,  even  as  thy  father  and  mother  do 
now,  on  account  o'  th'  greater  warmth. 

And  when  my  lord  had  glimpsed  at  the 
papers  he  did  start  to  his  feet,  saying, 
"  Where  is  the  man  who  brought  these  pa 
pers  ?" 

Jock  answered  him,  "  He  is  gone,  my 
lord." 

Then  snatching  up  a  flagon  of  wine  that 
was  near  at  hand,  he  drank  more  than  half 
that  was  in  it.  And  again  he  turned  over 
the  papers  in  his  hand.  But  all  they,  my 
little  lady,  and  Mistress  Marian,  and  your 
grandfather  and  grandmother,  seemed  turn 
ed  to  stone.  All  at  once  my  little  lady 


Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story.     207 

started  up  as  from  a  spell,  and  went  and 
got  her  arms  about  him,  as  in  years  gone 
by  when  she  had  hurt  him  with  his  own 
mock  sword,  and  she  cried  out,  "  What  is 
it?  what  is  it?"  Anon  came  Mistress  Mari 
an  to  his  other  side,  and  looked  over  his 
shoulder,  while  he  stood  between  them  like 
one  bewitched,  and  whiter  than  a  man  just 
dead.  When  Mistress  Marian  noted  the 
contents  o'  th'  papers,  up  went  her  hand  to 
her  heart  as  on  that  day  under  the  beech- 
tree,  and  she  caught  at  his  arm  to  stay  her 
self. 

He  turned  from  his  wife  to  her  as  though 
for  help,  saying,  "  Tell  her,  tell  her,  com 
rade."  And  he  sank  into  a  chair  near  by, 
and  dropped  down  his  head  into  his  hand. 

Lord !  Lord !  that  was  a  fearful  night ! 
When  they  made  my  little  lady  to  under 
stand,  she  set  up  one  cry  after  another, 
each  loud  enough  to  pierce  the  very  floor 
of  heaven.  Ne'er  since  have  I  heard  a 
woman  utter  such  cries  as  those.  And  no 


208     Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story. 

one  but  Mistress  Marian  could  in  any  wise 
appease  her,  for  she  would  not  have  my 
lord  come  unto  her,  but  drove  him  away 
with  waving  of  her  hands,  saying,  "  Thou 
dost  not  love  me,  but  the  King !  thou  dost 
not  love  me>  but  the  King !" 

And  when  Mistress  Marian  sought  to 
reason  with  her,  'twas  even  the  same. 
Naught  could  she  do  but  sit  and  hold  her, 
and  comfort  her  with  soft  words  and  noises 
such  as  mothers  make  o'er  their  young 
babes.  By -and -by  she  was  calmer,  and 
asked  to  see  her  lord.  So  Mistress  Marian 
went  out,  but  I  remained  on  a  low  stool  at 
the  bed's  foot.  Lord  Ernie  entered,  and 
she  crept  into  his  arms  like  a  fawn  into  the 
hollow  of  a  rock  when  the  hail  is  falling. 
And  they  clung  to  each  other  in  silence. 
Presently  he  saith,  "  Darling,  darling,  that 
I  should  have  brought  thee  to  grief !" 

She  answered,  "  Nay,  not  thou,  but  God. 
O  love,  dost  truly  think  that  God  is  aye  a 
good  God  ?" 


Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story.     209 

And  he  hushed  and  soothed  her  even 
more  tenderly  than  did  Mistress  Marian. 

Afterwhile  she  saith,  almost  in  a  whisper, 
"  But  thou  needst  not  go  ?" 

He  said,  "  Darling,  how  dost  thou  mean?" 
.  And  she  whispered  more  low  and  said, 
"  I  will  go  with  thee  to  the  new  continent 
to-morrow,  and  there  we  can  live  the  rest 
o'  our  days  in  peace  and  love."  And  she 
broke  out  all  at  once  wilder  than  ever: 
"  Ernie  !  Ernie  !  take  me  !  I  will  go  with 
thee  !  I  will  leave  father,  and  mother,  and 
home,  and  country,  and  friends,  and  King 
for  thee !  Only  go  not  to  war  !  go  not  to 
war!" 

He  said  but  two  words  back  of  his  teeth, 
"  I  must !"  and  then  again,  "/  must  /" 

But  when  he  looked  at  her  for  answer, 
lo !  she  had  swooned  away. 

He  was  to  set  forth  in  two  days  after  the 

morrow ;  and  on  the  morning  of  that  day, 

behold !  we  could  not  believe  our  own  eyes 

for  astonishment  when  we  saw  the   Lady 

14 


2io    Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story. 

Patience  step  quietly  forth,  composed  and 
gentle,  though  very  pale.  She  saith  good- 
morrow  to  every  one,  and  after  a  while  she 
doth  slip  her  arm  through  her  husband's 
arm,  and  saith  she,  "  Come  for  a  walk,  Ern 
ie  ;  I  have  much  to  say  to  thee."  So  they 
started  forth  together.  Now  I,  fearful  of 
many  things,  did  follow  at  a  little  distance. 
As  they  walked  she  besought  him  again 
that  he  would  take  her  and  set  sail  for  the 
new  continent.  And  when  again  he  told 
her  how  that  it  could  not  be,  she  fell  down 
upon  her  knees  before  him,  and  clasped  him 
with  her  arms,  and  she  said,  "  If  thou  dost 
not  love  me,  let  me  be  the  first  to  die  by 
thy  sword.  Slay  me,  as  I  kneel,  for  the  love 
I  bear  thee." 

He  said,  "  Patience,  Patience,  thou  wilt 
break  mine  heart." 

And  she,  still  kneeling,  did  cry  out  with 
a  wild  voice,  "  They  lied  who  named  me, 
for  in  an  ill  hour  was  I  born,  and  I  have 
not  patience  to  support  it !  I  thought  that 


Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story.     2 1 1 

thou  didst  love  me,  and  lo  !  thou  lovest  the 
husband  of  another  woman  more  than  thou 
lovest  me  !" 

He  bent  to  lift  her  up,  groaning,  but  she 
would  not ;  whereat  he  trembled  from  head 
to  foot,  and  she  shook  with  his  trembling 
as  the  leaves  of  a  tree  when  the  shaft  is 
smitten  by  lightning.  And  she  cried  out 
again,  and  said,  "  As  there  is  a  God  in  heav 
en,  thou  dost  not  love  me,  an  thou  canst  go 
to  war  and  leave  me  to  die  o'  grief."  Then, 
as  though  'twas  torn  from  him,  he  burst 
forth,  "  Now  as  there  is  a  God,  thou  dost 
not  love  me^  to  torture  me  thus  !" 

And  all  at  once  she  was  quiet.  So  he 
stooped  and  lifted  her,  and  called  her  his 
"bride,"  and  his  "wife,"  and  his  "darling," 
and  his  "  heart's  blood,"  and  more  wild,  fond, 
foolish  names  than  at  this  day  I  can  re 
member.  'Twas  near  sundown,  and  that 
night  he  was  to  ride.  Over  against  the 

o  o 

dark  jags  o'  th'  hills  there  ran  a  narrow 
streak  of  light,  like  a  golden  ribbon.  And 


212     Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story. 

the  brown  clouds  above  and  below  it  were 
like  locks  o'  hair  made  wanton  by  the  wind, 
which  it  as  a  fillet  did  seek  to  bind.  But 
they  twain  walked  ever  on,  till  by -and -by 
they  neared  that  cave  o'  which  I  did  tell  ye. 
As  they  came  in  front  o't  my  lady  turned, 
and  smiling  piteously,  "Ernie,"  saith  she, 
"wilt  thou  go  with  me  into  the  cave  and 
kiss  me  there,  that  when  thou  art  gone  I 
may  come  hither  and  think  o'  thee  ?" 

And  he  said, "  Oh,  my  heart !  what  would 
I  not  for  thee  ?"  And  he  kissed  her  again 
and  again. 

Presently  she  said,  "  Do  not  think  me 
foolish,  but  wilt  thou  enter  first? — it  is  so 
dark."  And  she  stood  in  the  door-way,  with 
her  hand  on  the  door,  while  he  entered. 

He  said,  "  There  is  nothing  here,  sweet 
heart,  but  a  monstrous  damp  odor." 

And  she  answered,  "  Nay,  but  go  to  the 
very  end ;  there  may  be  toads ;  and  when 
thou  art  there,  halloo  to  me."  So  she  waited 
with  her  hand  on  the  door. 


Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story.     213 

He  called  to  her,  "  There  is  nothing,  love. 
Wait  until  I  return  to  thee."  But,  ere  he 
had  ceased  speaking,  she  clapped  to  the 
door  with  all  her  might,  and  did  push  for 
ward  the  great  iron  bolt,  so  that  he  was  a 
prisoner  in  the  cave ;  I  being  rooted  to  the 
ground  with  astonishment,  as  fast  as  was 
ever  the  oak-tree  under  which  I  stood.  At 
first  he  thought  'twas  but  one  o'  her  pretty 
trickeries,  and  I  heard  his  gay  laugh  as  he 
came  to  the  shut  door,  and  he  called  out, 
and  said,  "  So,  sweetheart,  I  am  in  truth  a 
prisoner  o'  war;  but  art  thou  not  an  un 
merciful  general  to  confine  the  captured  in 
so  rheumatic  a  cavern  ?" 

She  sat  down  and  leaned  her  head  against 
the  door,  but  said  not  a  word. 

And  he  spoke  again,  saying,  "  Darling,  I 
pray  thee  waste  not  what  little  time  doth 
yet  remain  to  us." 

Still  she  answered  not;  and  again  he 
spake,  and  his  voice  began  to  be  sorrow 
ful. 


214     Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story. 

"  Oh,  my  wife,"  he  said,  "  canst  thou  jest 
at  such  a  time  ?" 

At  last  she  answered  him,  saying,  "  I  jest 
not." 

His  voice  changed  somewhat,  and  he  said, 
"  What  dost  thou,  then  ?" 

She  answered,  "  I  keep  what  is  mine. 
Where  my  forefathers  did  hide  their  treas 
ure,  there  hide  I  mine." 

He  said,  in  a  loud  voice,  "  God  will  not 
suffer  it." 

Then  fell  a  silence  between  them.  But 
by-and-by  he  spoke  again.  "  Darling,"  he 
saith,  "  surely  thou  dost  not  mean  to  do  this 
thing  ?" 

And  she  saith,  like  a  child  when  'tis 
naughty,  and  knoweth  well  that  it  is,  but 
likes  not  to  say  so,  "  What  thing  ?" 

He  answered,  "  Thou  canst  not  truly 
mean  to  shut  me  here  to  bring  dishonor 
upon  me,  who  have  loved  thee  better  than 
man  ever  loved  woman  "  (for  so  do  all  men 
say,  and  truly  think). 


Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story.     215 

She  said,  "  Thy  life  is  more  to  me  than 
thy  honor." 

And  he  groaned  aloud,  crying,  "  Oh  God ! 
that  I  have  lived  to  hear  thee  say  it !"  and 
again  there  fell  a  silence,  save  for  the  whis 
pering  of  the  night  in  the  trees  above,  us 
and  the  creeping  of  small  creatures  through 
the  dry  grass.  'Twas  almost  curfew-time, 
and  there  was  one  star  in  the  black  front  o' 
th'  night,  like  the  star  on  the  forehead  of  a 
black  stallion. 

When  he  spake  again  his  voice  was  very 
fierce,  and  he  saith,  "Patience,  I  do  com 
mand  thee  to  release  me." 

But  she  spake  never  a  word. 

And  again  he  said,  "  Better  let  me  out  to 
love  thee,  than  keep  me  here  until  I  hate 
thee." 

She  shivered,  leaning  against  the  door, 
until  the  big  bolt  rattled  in  its  braces. 

And  he  said  yet  again,  "  By  the  Lord 
God,  an  thou  dost  keep  me  here  to  sully 
my  good  name,  and  that  of  thy  father  and 


216     Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story. 

mother,  who  have  been  to  me  even  as  my 
own  flesh  and  blood,  I  will  never  live  with 
thee  again  as  man  with  wife,  but  will  go 
forth  into  the  New  World  to  live  and  to 
die  with  thy  handmaid  dishonor  !" 

And  she  was  silent. 

Again  he  spoke,  and  lifted  up  his  voice 
in  a  cry  exceeding  sorrowful  and  bitter,  so 
that  my  heart  froze  to  hear  it. 

"  Woman  !  woman !  was  it  for  this  I  gave 
thee  my  fair  fame  to  cherish  ?  Or  was  it 
for  this  that  I  put  my  name  into  thy  keep 
ing  ?  Oh,  child,  listen  while  there  is  yet 
time  !  Wilt  thou  with  thy  own  hands  take 
his  manhood  from  thy  husband  to  drag 
it  through  the  mire  ?  Patience,  as  I  have 
shared  thy  childhood,  as  I  have  loved  and 
cherished  thy  girlhood,  as  I  have  held  thee 
in  my  arms  as  bride  and  wife,  give  me  back 
my  honor  while  there  is  yet  time.  Oh,  my 
wife  !  my  darling  !"  And  I  heard  him  sob 
bing  like  a  little  lad. 

At  that  sound  she  put  both  hands  over 


Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story.     217 

her  ears,  and  started  to  her  feet,  looking 
from  right  to  left  like  a  hunted  thing,  and 
I  could  bear  it  no  longer,  but  leaped  for 
ward  and  fell  on  my  knees  before  her,  and 
grasped  her  kirtle  with  both  hands.  I  could 
scarce  speak  for  tears,  but  with  all  the 
strength  that  was  in  me  did  I  plead  with 
her  to  draw  back  the  bolt,  but  she  would 
not.  Now  to  this  day  when  I  do  think  of 
the  fool  that  I  was,  not  to  run  without  her 
knowledge  and  bring  the  old  lord,  thy  grand 
father,  or  bide  my  time  and  unbar  the  door 
when  she  had  gone,  it  seems  as  though  I 
must  hate  myself  for  evermore.  But  as  I 
pleaded  with  her,  all  at  once  there  was  some 
thing  cold  against  my  throat,  and  I  seemed 
to  know  that  'twas  a  dagger,  and  the  steel 
cowed  me,  as  it  doth  sometimes  cow  strong 
men,  and  I  stirred  not,  neither  spoke  I  a 
word  more.  Her  face  was  over  me,  like  a 
white  flower  in  the  purple  dusk,  but  her 
eyes  bright  and  terrible.  And  when  she 
spoke,  'twas  not  my  little  lady's  voice, 


218     Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story. 

but  rather  the  voice  o'  a  fiend.  And  she 
said, 

"  Swear  that  thou  sayest  .nothing  of  all 
this  to  man,  or  to  woman,  or  to  child,  else 
will  I  kill  thee  as  thou  kneelest." 

And  I  knew  that  for  the  time  she  was 
mad,  and  would  kill  me  even  as  she  had 
said,  did  I  not  swear.  So  I  did  take  that 
fearful  oath,  coward  as  I  was,  and  to  this  day 
am  I  a  craven  when  I  think  on  't.  When  I 
had  sworn,  she  turned  from  me  as  though 
there  were  no  such  woman  in  all  the  earth, 
and  went  once  more  to  the  door  o'  th'  cave, 
and  called  his  name — "  Ernie  !" 

He  answered  straightway,  and  said, "  This 
once  will  I  speak  to  thee,  but  if  thou  dost 
not  unbar  the  door  o'  th'  instant,  I  will  never 
hold  speech  with  thee  again,  nor  touch  so 
much  as  the  hem  of  thy  garments,  by  the 
living  God !" 

She  said,  "  I  cannot !  I  cannot !  But  oh ! 
say  not  such  dreadful  words.  We  will  be 
happy.  'Tis  for  that  I  keep  thee  here. 


Crumpet  Tells  the  Story.     219 

Speak  to  me  !  Ernie  !  Ernie  !  Ernie ! 
Call  me  thy  love  once  more !  Just  once  ! 
just  once  !" 

But  she  might  as  well  have  plead  at  the 
door  o'  a  tomb  for  all  the  answer  she  got. 
Again  and  again  she  called  him,  but  a  dead 
man  speaks  no  more  than  spoke  her  lord. 
And  at  last  she  sprang  to  her  feet,  and  rush 
ed  away  into  the  darkness  towards  the  cas 
tle,  and  I  after  her. 

And  when  I  was  entered  in  by  a  side 
door,  and  had  changed  my  apparel  and 
gone  forth  to  inquire  after  her,  lo  !  she  was 
raving  as  with  fever,  and  all  they,  her 
father,  and  mother,  and  Mistress  Marian, 
thought  that  he  had  ridden  away  and  left 
her  i'  th'  park,  having  said  farewell  to  them 
ere  he  and  my  lady  did  set  forth  to  walk. 
And  they  strove  to  comfort  her. 

The  morrow  was  scarce  dawned  when  she 
was  up  and  dressed,  and  stealing  through 
the  covert  to  the  door  o'  th'  cave.  I  followed 
her,  for  she  heeded  me  no  more,  now  that  I 


22O     Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story. 

had  taken  the  oath,  knowing  that  I  would 
be  torn  in  pieces  ere  I  would  betray  my 
trust.  When  she  was  come  to  the  door, 
she  kneeled  down  and  leaned  her  head 
against  it,  and  called  to  him,  with  a  voice 
so  exquisite  low,  'twas  almost  as  though  one 
should  hear  the  spirit  when  it  speaks  within, 
and  she  saith,  "  Ernie — my  love — my  love." 

And  all  was  still  as  death.  And  she  said, 
"  Darling,  feel  with  thy  hands  for  the  bread 
and  wine.  It  is  near  thee  on  the  right  o' 
th'  door  as  thou  enterest  in.  Two  bottles 
o'  wine  and  some  loaves  o'  bread." 

But  he  answered  her  neither  by  word 
or  sighing.  And  she  said,  "Wouldst  thou 
break  my  heart  ?"  Then,  when  she  saw 
that  he  would  not  answer  her,  she  cast  her 
self  face  down  along  the  ground,  and  tore 
up  the  grass  with  her  hands,  and  pressed 
down  her  face  into  the  damp  earth.  And 
after  a  while  (for  th'  looks  o't)  she  rose  and 
went  back  to  the  castle. 

At  nightfall  there  rode  a  man  to  the  cas- 


Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story.     221 

tie  gate  with  papers,  wherein  my  Lord  Falk 
land  did  question  wherefore  Lord  Radnor 
had  not  answered  the  summons.  And  all 
they  were  amazed  and  looked  at  one  an 
other.  The  messenger  said,  moreover,  "  If 
that  it  cannot  be  proven  ere  to-morrow 
night  that  the  Lord  Radnor  hath  been  the 
victim  o'  foul  play,  he  will  be  branded  as  a 
deserter  throughout  the  land." 

Thy  grandfather  gave  one  cry,  "  Mur 
dered  !"  and  the  sound  of  it  stilled  the  life 
in  me  that  I  fell  down  as  one  dead.  And 
when  I  had  once  more  come  to  the  pos 
session  o'  my  wits,  Jock  did  tell  me  as  how 
'twas  already  whispered  in  the  village  that 
the  young  lord  had  deserted  the  cause,  and 
had  set  sail  in  secret  for  the  New  World. 
Upon  this,  I  straightway  swooned  again. 
And  wrhen  I  was  recovered  enough  to  stand 
upon  my  feet  and  go  forth  from  my  cham 
ber,  behold  !  there  was  a  silence  over  all 
the  house,  as  in  a  house  where  the  best  be 
loved  has  died  in  the  night. 


222     Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story. 

Men  scoured  the  country  far  and  near, 
in  search  o'  th'  murdered  body  o'  th'  young 
lord.  And  'twas  now  the  evening  o'  th' 
third  day.  But  my  lady  meant  not  to  open 
the  door  until  the  morrow,  for  if  she  opened 
it  ere  then,  she  knew  not  but  what  matters 
might  be  righted,  and  her  lord  ride  to  the 
wars  in  spite  o'  all.  When  it  was  nigh  to 
sunset  she  did  creep  forth  and  kneel  at  the 
door  o'  th'  cave,  and  call  to  him  in  that  beau 
tiful,  gentle  voice,  "  Ernie  !  Ernie  !  my  love  ! 
my  darling !" 

And  when  he  did  not  answer  her,  she 
ceased  not,  as  on  the  day  before,  but  went 
on :  "  To-morrow  I  will  set  thee  free.  As  I 
live,  thou  shall  be  free  to-morrow.  An  thou 
wilt  but  let  me  be  near  thee  like  thy  dog,  I 
will  ask  no  more.  Neither  will  I  fret  thee 
with  my  sorrow.  Oh,  love,  I  do  beseech 
thee  speak  to  me,  whose  only  sin  was  in 
loving  thee  too  dearly.  Let  the  kisses  that 
as  a  bride  I  have  set  upon  thy  lips  plead 
with  them  that  they  speak  to  me.  Oh,  my 


Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story.     223 

heart !  oh,  my  husband,  have  pity  !  If  thou 
wilt  never  speak  to  me  again,  speak  to  me 
now.  Say  but  my  name,  my  silly,  ill-be 
stowed  name,  *  Patience.'  Nay,  curse  me, 
so  I  but  hear  thy  voice.  Call  me  what  names 
thou  wilt.  In  God's  name,  Ernie !  In  the 
name  o'  her  who  was  once  thy  wife  !"  And 
as  she  knelt  and  pleaded  as  a  woman  with 
her  God,  behold  !  there  stepped  forth  from 
the  coppice  Mistress  Marian.  She  stood 
there  like  a  figure  cut  in  snow,  for  her  kirtle 
was  all  of  white  seme,  and  her  hair  was  as 
a  cloud  fallen  round  about  her.  When  she 
saw  my  lady  she  drew  in  her  breath  with  a 
sharp  sound,  and  set  both  hands  against 
her  bosom.  And  she  bended  forward  from 
her  loins  and  listened,  but  in  none  other 
wise  moved  she.  And  my  lady  went  on, 
"  To  -  morrow  I  will  set  thee  free  —  I  do 
swear  it.  With  the  rising  o'  th'  morrow's 
sun  thou  shalt  be  free  as  air.  Only  speak 
to  me  now.  Only  speak  to  me  now.  Just 
once,  Ernie — just  once." 


224     Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story. 

With  one  spring  Mistress  Marian  was 
upon  her,  and  had  pinned  her  arms  to  her 
sides.  And  the  two  women  stood  and  gazed 
into  each  other's  faces,  with  their  throats 
stretched  forward,  as  serpents  stretch  their 
throats  ere  springing  upon  each  other. 

Mistress  Marian  spake  first,  and  her  voice 
was  as  a  voice  that  I  had  never  heard,  and 
she  said,  "  So  this  is  the  truth,  then  ?" 

My  lady  said  no  word,  but  her  eyes  were 
aflame. 

And  Mistress  Marian  gazed  on  her  for 
an  instant  more,  then  dashed  her  aside,  and 
turned  towards  the  cave. 

"  Ernie,"  she  said,  "  take  heart.  I  will  set 
thee  free — I,  Marian  !"  But  ere  her  hand 
did  touch  the  bolt,  my  lady  was  upon  her 
like  a  little  tiger,  and  she  wound  her  hands 
in  Mistress  Marian's  thick  tresses,  and 
dragged  her  backward. 

And  they  rolled  over  and  over  on  the 
ground,  even  as  do  men  when  they  fight, 
saying  no  word  from  first  to  last.  The  hor- 


Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story.     225 

ror  of  it  smote  me  that  I  fell  down  upon  my 
knees  and  was  dumb.  Now  my  little  lady 
was  uppermost,  now  Mistress  Marian.  And 
had  not  my  lady  been  strong  with  despair, 
Mistress  Marian  could  'a'  mastered  her  o' 
th'  instant  But  she  fought  like  a  she-wolf 
brought  to  bay,  with  teeth  and  talons  too, 
and  'twas  almost  as  though  two  of  a  size 
had  fought  there.  Howbeit,  with  a  sudden 
move,  Mistress  Marian  flung  my  lady  down, 
and  set  her  knee  upon  her,  and  held  her,  and 
looked  from  side  to  side,  as  though  at  a  loss, 
and  my  lady's  strength  was  fast  failing. 

When  I  saw  that,  I  could  bide  still  no 
longer,  but  ran  forward,  crying  to  Mistress 
Marian  to  be  gentle  with  her. 

She  answered  but  these  words,  "  Nurse, 
take  off  my  girdle  and  bind  thy  lady's  hands 
with  it."  And  there  was  that  in  her  voice 
I  dared  not  disobey.  So  I  bound  my  lady's 
hands,  she  saying  never  a  word,  and  when 
the  girdle  was  fast  knotted,  Mistress  Marian 
helped  her  gently  enough  to  rise,  and  bid- 

'5 


226     Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story. 

ding  me  have  a  care  o'  her,  turned  and 
drew  back  the  bolt  from  the  door  o'  the 
cave. 

The  last  light  o'  the  sun  fell  like  a  golden 
lance  across  the  threshold,  and  across  my 
lord  as  he  lay  there,  face  down,  with  his 
hands  against  the  sill  o'  th'  door. 

And  she  stooped  down  over  him,  saying, 
"  He  hath  fainted  for  lack  o'  food,"  but  I 
knew  that  there  was  both  wine  and  bread  i' 
th'  cave.  And  she  called  his  name,  but  he 
was  silent.  And  she  called  him  again  and 
again.  And  at  last  she  bade  me  come  to 
her  side,  and  when  we  had  turned  him  upon 
his  side  so  that  his  face  was  towards  us,  be 
hold,  he  was  dead.  But  Mistress  Marian 
saith  again,  "  He  hath  swooned  away."  And 
she  put  her  hand  upon  his  brow,  but  no  soon 
er  did  she  touch  it  than  she  cried  out  at  its 
coldness,  and  shook  the  dead  man  in  her 
frenzy,  crying, 

"  Ernie !  Ernie  !  thou  art  free  !  Wake, 
man !  thou  art  free  !" 


Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story.     227 

I  said,  "  Mistress,  mistress,  for  love  of 
God  !  Dost  thou  not  see  that  neither  thou 
nor  any  other  can  wake  him  more  ?" 

Thereat  she  fell  back  upon  her  knees, 
leaning  upon  one  arm.  And  she  said, 
"  Dost  thou  mean — " 

I  bowed  down  mine  head,  for  I  could  not 
meet  her  eyes.  And  she  fell  upon  his  body, 
and  stirred  no  more,  so  that  when  they  came 
to  bear  the  poor  young  lord  to  the  castle, 
they  did  bear  her  also.  And  for  some  hours 
we  thought  her  dead. 

Now  when  my  lady  saw  them  how  they 
lay  there,  and  the  sunlight  red  upon  them 
like  to  blood,  she  came  and  kneeled  down 
in  front  o'  me,  and  lifted  up  her  poor  fet 
tered  hands  meekly,  like  a  little  child.  And 
she  said, "  Nurse,  I  pray  you  tell  me  what  it 
doth  mean,  for  methinks  I  am  waxing  fool 
ish,  like  poor  Marjory  i'  th'  village  whose 
man  fell  from  the  cliff." 

I  could  not  answer  her  for  sobbing. 

And  she  said,  "  Do  they  sleep  ?" 


228     Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story. 

And  I  nodded  my  head,  for  I  could  say 
no  word. 

She  said,  "  Pray  you,  do  not  wake  them. 
An  they  sleep  till  the  morrow,  all  will  be 
well."  Suddenly  her  wits  came  back  upon 
her  with  a  rush,  as  doth  a  wind  that  hath 
seemed  to  be  gone  for  aye.  And  she  snapt 
the  girdle  on  her  wrists  like  as  it  had  been 
a  thread  o'  silk,  and  ran  and  laid  hold  on 
him  with  her  hands,  and  dragged  him  forth 
upon  the  grass.  And  she  saith, 

"Ernie!  Ernie!  Ernie!  What!  wilt  thou 
not  answer  me,  now  that  thou  art  free? 
See !  thou  mayest  ride  to  war.  It  is  not 
yet  too  late.  What  there,  nurse !  My  lord's 
charger !  Run  !  run  !"  Then  leaped  she  to 
her  feet  with  one  cry  that  methought  would 
'a'  cracked  the  welkin  in  twain  above  our 
heads. 

"  Dead  !     Oh  God  in  heaven  !" 

So  for  an  instant  she  stood,  with  her 
arms  reached  high  above  her  head,  and  her 
eyes  upon  him  as  he  lay  at  her  feet,  even  as 


Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story.     229 

a  flame  doth  poise  for  a  breath  ere  sinking 
again  upon  the  coals.  But  anon  she  dropped 
down  beside  him,  and  beat  her  forehead  with 
the  lower  palms  o'  her  hands,  and  she  saith, 
"  Well  didst  thou  sign  me  with  thy  blood  ! 
well  didst  thou  sign  me  with  thy  blood!" 
Then  all  at  once  did  she  peep  up  at  me  over 
her  shoulder  with  one  o'  her  winsome  ways, 
and  fell  a-laughing  softly. 

"  Nurse,"  saith  she,  "  hath  he  not  found  a 
pretty  way  to  punish  me  ?  He  feigns  it  well 
— by'r  lay 'kin — doth  he  not,  nurse  ?" 

And  she  rocked  to  and  fro,  as  she  knelt 
beside  him,  laughing  softly  to  herself,  and 
ever  and  again  she  would  reach  forth  one 
little  hand,  all  scarred  in  her  struggle  with 
Mistress  Marian,  and  would  touch  a  stray 
lock  into  place,  and  once  she  bent  over  and 
kissed  him,  laughing  softly,  and  nodding  to 
herself  very  wisely.  And  she  would  sit  that 
way,  and  rock  herself  to  and  fro,  and  smile 
upon  the  ground,  and  laugh  softly,  until  the 
very  day  that  she  did  die.  And  the  last 


230     Nurse  Crumpet  Tells  the  Story. 

words   that   she    did  ever  say  were,  "Just 
once,  Ernie — just  once." 

(Nurse  Crumpet  rises  and  stirs  the  fire, 
amid  a  heavy  silence,  broken  only  by  the 
little  Lady  Dorothy's  sobs  and  the  rushing 
of  the  wind  outside  the  great  hall.) 


THE    END. 


TONY,  THE  MAID. 

A  Novelette.   By  BLANCHE  WILLIS  HOWARD.   Illustrated 
by  CHARLES  S.  RELNHART.     16mo,  Cloth,  $1  00. 


"  'Tony,  the  Maid,'  is  not  only  one  of  the  best  pieces  of  work  Miss 
Howard  has  yet  done,  but  it  is  one  of  the  very  best  short  stories  of  the 
year.  Tony  herself  is  an  original  creation.  There  is  no  maid  like 
Tony  in  all  fiction ;  and  she  is,  moreover,  the  only  good  thing,  which 
is  neither  superlatively  beautiful  nor  emphatically  a  bore,  or  both,  that 
has  come  out  of  the  Canton  of  Lucerne  since  the  days  of  William  Tell. 
Even  the  insatiate  archer,  when  he  is  not  mythical,  is  a  trifle  wearing 
to  the  average  mind,  but  Tony  is  never  tiresome  and  always  grand. 

"As  a  short  story  Miss  Howard's  'Tony,  the  Maid'  has  but  one 
fault.  It  is  too  short.  There  is  not  enough  of  Tony.  She  makes  her 
exit  too  suddenly  and  too  completely.  It  is  consoling  to  know,  how 
ever,  that  Miss  Zschorcher  is  some  day  coining  to  America  as  Mrs. 
Eduard  Maler.  Perhaps  Tony  the  Maid  may  figure  as  Tony  the  Ma 
tron  and  Tony  the  Mother.  Knowing  her  duty  to  her  gracious  Frau- 
lein,  no  doubt  she  will." 

A  bright  and  lively  sketch  of  an  American  woman  abroad,  and  char 
acterized  throughout  by  keen  and  forcible  phraseology  and  a  very 
symmetrical  construction. — A".  Y.  Commercial  Advertiser. 

This  is  a  very  clever  satire  on  one  of  the  phases  of  modern  society, 
and  the  tale  is  told  in  a  most  charming  manner. — Albany  Press. 

It  is  a  long  time  since  we  have  met  with  anything  so  charming,  so 
refreshing,  so  droll.  .  .  .  Read  this  book  once,  and  one  wants  to  turn 
back  and  read  it  again.—  X.  Y.  Star. 

Mr.  Iteinhart's  illustrations  greatly  enhance  the  interest  of  the  nov 
elette. — Buffalo  Commercial  Advertiser. 

A  story  written  in  a  style  as  simple  as  that  which  Miss  Howard  has 
adopted  in  this  novelette  is  sure  to  find  many  readers.  The  story  is 
well  told  and  attractive.— TVoy  Press. 

"Tony,  the  Maid,"  is  safe  for  a  great  success  with  the  lovers  of  the 
bright  and  dainty  in  literature.  It  is  prettily  bound,  and  uncommonly 
cleverly  illustrated.— X.  Y.  Graphic. 

The  story  is  told  with  infinite  humor  and  with  not  a  little  pathos, 
and  it  will  well  repay  perusal. — Philadelphia  Telegraph. 

The  plot  is  new,  the  characters  are  fresh,  and  the  handling  is  spirited 
and  brisk.  No  one  who  commences  this  little  book  will  stop  reading 
until  the  end  is  reached.— Chicago  Journal 


PUBLISHED  BY  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  NEW  YORK. 

£3^*  The  above  work  sent  by  mail,  postage  prepaid,  to  any  part  of  the 
United  States  or  Canada,  on  receipt  of  the  price. 


BY  CONSTANCE  F.  WOOLSOK 

EAST  ANGELS,     pp.  592.     16mo,  Cloth,  $1  25. 
ANNE.     Illustrated,     pp.  540.     16mo,  Cloth,  $1  25. 
FOR  THE  MAJOR,    pp.  208.    IGmo,  Cloth,  $1  00. 

CASTLE    NOWHERE,     pp.  386.    16mo,  Cloth,  $1  00. 
(A  New  Edition.} 

RODMAN  THE  KEEPER.     Southern  Sketches,     pp. 
340.     16mo,  Cloth,  $1  00.     (A  New  Edition.) 


There  is  a  certain  bright  cheerfulness  in  Miss  Woolson's  writing 
which  invests  all  her  characters  with  lovable  qualities.— Jewish  Advo 
cate,  N.  Y. 

Miss  Woolson  is  among  our  few  successful  writers  of  interesting 
magazine  stories,  and  her  skill  and  power  are  perceptible  in  the  de 
lineation  of  her  heroines  no  less  thau  in  the  suggestive  pictures  of 
local  life. — Jeivish  Messenger,  N.  Y. 

Constance  Fenimore  Woolson  may  easily  become  the  novelist 
laureate. — Boston  Globe. 

Miss  Woolson  has  a  graceful  fancy,  a  ready  wit,  a  polished  style,  and 
conspicuous  dramatic  power ;  while  her  skill  in  the  development  of  a 
story  is  very  remarkable. — London  Life. 

Miss  Woolson  never  once  follows  the  beaten  track  of  the  orthodox 
novelist,  but  strikes  a  new  and  richly  loaded  vein,  which  so  far  is  all 
her  own ;  and  thus  we  feel,  on  reading  one  of  her  works,  a  fresh  sen 
sation,  and  we  put  down  the  book  with  a  sigh  to  think  our  pleasant 
task  of  reading  it  is  finished.  The  author's  lines  must  have  fallen  to 
her  in  very  pleasant  places ;  or  she  has,  perhaps,  within  herself  the 
wealth  of  womanly  love  and  tenderness  she  pours  so  freely  into  all 
she  writes.  Such  books  as  hers  do  much  to  elevate  the  moral  tone  of 
the  day— a  quality  sadly  wanting  in  novels  of  the  time.— Whitehall 
Review,  London. 


PUBLISHED  BY  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  NEW  YORK. 

The  above  works  sent  by  mail,  postage  prepaid,  to  any  part  of  the 
United  States  or  Canada,  on  receipt  of  the  price. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 
BERKELEY 

Return  to  desk  from  which  borrowed. 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


LD  21-100m-7,'52(A2528sl6)476 


c/ 


LoA-0 


M2721O3 

' 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


